Charlotte's Cowboy

by Jeanne Allan

  “Why, you freckle-faced bitch, how dare you?”

  Charlotte looked squarely at Paula. Fury had stripped the other woman of any vestige of sex appeal. Charlotte almost felt sorry for her. “Don’t ever cast slurs on my mother’s character,” she said quietly. “You haven’t been such a success at married life yourself. You have no right to throw stones.”

  “At least I haven’t gone around populating the world with unwanted red-haired kids,” Paula sneered.

  “Maybe if you’d ever loved somebody beside yourself—”

  Matthew yanked Charlotte across the yard. “Are you crazy? In another second the two of you would have been rolling in the dirt, fighting.”

  Charlotte peeled his fingers away from her arm. “Were you worried I’d beat her up?”

  “Beat her up?” He looked at her in astonishment. “You’d have been a greasy spot in the grass when she finished.” After a minute, he said, “Don’t judge the others here by Paula. It’s who a person is and what she does that counts around here, not who her folks were,” he said, his voice almost gruff. “Nobody’s judging you or your mom.”

  “Don’t worry about it. The first time someone called me names and said I couldn’t come to her birthday party, I cried. Mom was devastated, but Aunt Faye was furious. With me for bawling. She told me the circumstances of my birth had nothing to do with me, and that anyone stupid enough to think they did wasn’t worth knowing.”

  “Nice philosophy,” he said skeptically, “but did it really make you feel any better?”

  “No.” Charlotte gave him a demure smile. “But shoving the girl in a mud puddle did.”

  Matthew eyed her thoughtfully. “Revenge. Mud puddle. Stock pond. I’m beginning to see a pattern here.” He brushed hair from her face, then stilled, his hand cupping her jaw. “When it comes to water, I’m beginning to think you’re a much more dangerous woman than I realized.”

  The voices and sounds of the party faded. Charlotte was aware of nothing but the warmth of Matthew’s fingers against her skin and the sleepy heat in the brown eyes fixed on her face. She fought to escape the spell he was casting, reminding herself he only wanted something from her. “The water rights,” she said breathlessly. “I suppose you’re thinking about those water rights you want.”

  “I’m thinking if a man weren’t careful, he could drown in green eyes.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHARLOTTE blinked uncertainly at the soft, teasing words, clear thinking hindered by Matthew caressing her jawbone with his thumb. Understanding finally dawned. Matthew’s flirting was his way of erasing the echoes of Paula Kenton’s ugly, spiteful remarks. Charlotte swallowed the lump of gratitude in her throat and rewarded him with an incandescent smile. “Do you flirt with every female who crosses your path?”

  “Most of the females who cross my path are big and ugly and chew their cuds. Not my type.”

  “Since you’re a cowboy, seems to me they’d be exactly your type,” Charlotte retorted. Smiling golden brown eyes wouldn’t affect her breathing, so it must be the altitude. Were they higher or lower here than in Denver? Could the altitude be the cause of the electric tension buzzing between them? She felt invigorated and recharged and full of nervous energy. At the same time she wished she could curl her entire body into a small ball that would fit in Matthew’s hand.

  “I thought you guys was never gonna get here.”

  The shrill voice rescued Charlotte, and she turned and smiled gratefully at Tim. “I suppose you want to know how that repellent animal you stuck me with baby-sitting is.”

  “Dad told me you take good care of Snowball.” Tim’s smile disappeared, and he formally added, “I’m sorry about your hat. Dad says I have to buy you a new one.”

  “He told you that? He told me anyone who put a hat with fake cherries on it right beside a rat’s cage deserved to have it gnawed on. Before you ask, Snowball didn’t get sick.”

  “Gosh, Charlotte. I wasn’t going to ask that.”

  “Why not? Your dad already tell you he’s OK?”

  “Yeah.” Tim gave her an enchanting grin.

  Charlotte barely restrained herself from hugging him. As an only child, she’d always wanted a younger brother or sister. No wonder she’d fallen in love with Tim. Except Tim was off limits to her. By decree of Matthew. She pushed the sad knowledge away. “You didn’t warn me Snowball likes tea,” she said in a severe voice.

  Tim’s face lit up with delight. “Only Earl Grey,” he crowed. “Dad told me he climbed in your mug, and you didn’t see him till you picked it up.”

  Charlotte gave him a fierce frown. “You’re lucky I didn’t bite him, kiddo. Don’t you believe me?” she asked as Tim erupted in giggles.

  “Nah. You like him. Dad said you got him in your room so he won’t get lonely.” Tim grabbed her hand. “C’mon. I want to show you to my friends.”

  Charlotte looked at Matthew. He’d stood quietly during her conversation with his son, but she had no doubt he’d intervene before allowing her to accompany Tim. To her surprise, Matthew raised no objection.

  “Go ahead, there’s some people I want to talk to. Tim,” Matthew instructed his son, “introduce Charlotte to your grandparents.”

  Charlotte was involved in a fierce game of croquet with a mixed group of children and adults when Matthew came looking for her. Tim trotted over to his dad. “Charlotte says I knock her out again and she’s gonna throw a temper tantrum.”

  “In that case, it’s a good thing I’ve come to take her away.” Matthew tousled his son’s hair.

  The affectionate gesture brought a lump to Charlotte’s throat as Tim rushed to assure his father Charlotte was only teasing.

  “I know, but there’s someone here who wants to meet her.”

  The man’s name was Bud Adamly. “I couldn’t believe it when Matt told me you were Chick’s daughter. I mean, I believe it,” he added hastily, “it’s just, well, hell, I’m pleased as punch Chick had a kid.”

  “Chick occasionally hazed for Bud,” Matthew said.

  “That’s right. The last time I saw your father was in Denver at the stock show just before he left for Vietnam.” The man scrutinized Charlotte’s face. “You sure look like Emily, Chick’s mother. Course you have Jewel’s smile.”

  “My mother’s...” Charlotte’s voice caught in her throat.

  “The way she looked at Chick you’d have thought he was a million-dollar pile of gold. I envied him, I’ll tell you that. I’ll bet she’s still pretty as a picture.”

  “You met my mother?”

  “Sure. Chick introduced her to me. I admit, I wondered, what with Connie and—” He broke off, his face dark red.

  “Charlotte knows about Connie,” Matthew said.

  “Chick may have been engaged to Connie, but I never saw him as happy as he was with your mom. When I heard Chick was killed, I felt better knowing he’d had those days with Jewel. I liked her. In fact—” his face lit up “—you tell her to come down and visit us. My wife and I, we’d love to have her. Show her around, where Chick went to school, stuff like that.”

  Charlotte could do little more than nod as Bud Adamly said his farewells and walked away. She had no idea how her hand came to be tightly clasped in Matthew’s, but she was grateful for his support. “Thank you,” she managed.

  Matthew wiped a spot of moisture from her cheek. “Bud is pretty sure your dad was riding Willie that time.”

  “Willie.” Matthew hadn’t forgotten. She was still shamelessly clutching his hand when her hard-won composure dissolved into high-pitched giggles. “Willie. What a ridiculous name for a horse. Satan, or Thor, or Chief, but Willie?”

  “I think you need something to eat,” Matthew said.

  * * *

  Charlotte wondered if she could smell the fried chicken from the rear of the pickup, or if after several hours of preparing the enormous picnic lunch, the odor was in her head. “You must be feeding an army,” she said to Helen, who was driving.

&nb
sp; “The men started out before light, so they’ll be starving. I know you were annoyed with Matt for not letting you go along today, but I really appreciate your help.”

  So Helen had overheard last evening’s shouted argument. “I would not have needed baby-sitting.” Charlotte still nursed her grievance, conveniently forgetting whose behavior had provided the excuse Matthew needed. He’d claimed her riding skills weren’t up to the challenge of the drive. “He let Tim go.” She knew very well Tim’s presence on the drive was why she’d been banished to the kitchen, not because she was a greenhorn.

  Helen wisely changed the subject as she brought the pickup to a halt. “Good. We beat them here. They’re just coming through the far gate.”

  Charlotte twisted around in her seat. Cattle were streaming from one field to another. A rider sat by the opened gate, while a half dozen other riders walked and trotted the outskirts of the plodding herd. The sounds of the herd were punctuated by shouts of the riders. The cows looked hot and tired, their bovine hooves kicking up a cloud of dust. One cow dashed from the herd, headed away from the gate. A rider dashed after, swinging a large loop. The cow changed direction, but the horse whirled on his back legs, cutting the cow off from freedom. Obediently the cow trotted back to the herd. The gray horse and rider swung to the rear of the herd.

  “Matt trained Jay himself,” Helen said proudly. “He’s one of the best cutting horses I’ve ever seen. Matt’s been offered big money for Jay, but he won’t sell.” Her voice changed. “Oh, darn. Why is she along?”

  She was Paula Kenton. Matthew had allowed her to join the drive. Maybe he didn’t dislike Paula as much as he claimed. Charlotte took quiet satisfaction in the other woman’s sweat-stained clothes, dust-caked face and hair plastered to her head.

  Naturally Paula was less than pleased by the unflattering contrast. “Too bad you wouldn’t ride with us today, Carla. Matt and I commented on how particularly gorgeous the sunrise was this morning. Of course, I understand you needing your beauty sleep.” She poked around the platter of chicken. “City folk never fully appreciate the beauty of nature, anyway.”

  Charlotte gave Matthew an indignant look. She’d bet Paula hadn’t reached those conclusions unaided.

  “I asked Charlotte to help Mom out today, and although she preferred to ride, she graciously—” Matthew’s eyes gleamed with laughter across the makeshift serving table at Charlotte “—consented. The men and I can handle the drive without outside help, but we’d never survive without a good lunch.”

  Paula surveyed Charlotte through contemptuous eyes, taking in every detail of the huge straw hat, the finely tucked almond-colored high-necked blouse with an old Victorian pin at the collar, and the coral chintz skirt. “I’ll bet she was a big help. Is there anything at all you can do in the kitchen?”

  Charlotte winked at Tim, who was in line ahead of his dad. “I managed to lick the beaters after Helen mixed up the chocolate frosting.” She swallowed a smile as Tim screwed up his face to wink back. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Matthew watching the byplay. She didn’t care. She was leaving tomorrow.

  “Charlotte’s the best cutter-upper and cleanup crew I’ve ever had,” Helen said stoutly.

  “Lara always went with the men on the drive,” Paula said. “She believed a woman should be able to work alongside her man, and she was a better rider and cowhand than most of the men.”

  “Yes, she was,” Matthew agreed in a pleasant voice. “You forgot to take carrots and potato salad, Tim. A cowboy can’t make it through the day on chicken and cake.”

  “The boy’s diet is deplorable,” Paula said immediately. “Mom and Dad let him eat all kinds of junk food, and I suppose you’re not much better, Helen. He needs a mother.”

  A calf bawled in the sudden silence. Tim reached for a carrot stick, his face pale. Charlotte was torn between an angry urge to throw the entire bowl of potato salad at Paula, and a sense of astonishment that Paula had so little sense when it came to dealing with Matthew. Had Lara been as inept? If so, it was hardly surprising they’d come to a parting of the ways.

  “Mom, you and Charlotte better fill your plates before the men come back for seconds or you’ll go away hungry.” Matthew joined the cowhands sitting in the shade of some large pines. Paula pointedly sat down beside him.

  Helen indicated the two lawn chairs she’d set up in the shade of the truck. “No point in you and me getting all dirty.”

  Tim dropped to the ground between them, his resentful gaze on Paula as she whispered in Matthew’s ear. Charlotte resisted the temptation to assure Tim his father was safe from Paula. What did she know? Matthew ate steadily, his face blank. The men returned for second and third helpings and then most of them, including Matthew, stretched out on the ground, hats covering their faces. Tim curled up in a ball on the ground, and even Helen sat with her eyes closed. Paula had disappeared.

  Loud snores came from under one of the hats, and Charlotte idly wondered if Matthew snored. Cattle sounds drifted from the pasture, and a few insects buzzed halfheartedly in the midday warmth. Across the road a cool fringe of trees beckoned. Moving quietly, Charlotte stood up and strolled toward the trees. A dark blue Steller’s jay squawked at her intrusion, and a squirrel scolded from overhead.

  “If you think you can get to Matt by cozying up to his precious son, it won’t work.” Paula stepped from behind a large tree. “You don’t fit in here with your fancy clothes and soft city ways, and you never will. Especially after Lara. A woman like you might be good for sex—” Paula looked doubtful “—but Matt will no more marry you than Chick married your mother.”

  Without a word, Charlotte executed a U-turn and returned to her lawn chair. As much as she wanted to pound the other woman into the ground, she would not stoop to Paula’s level and engage in a cat fight. Paula knew nothing about Jewel Darnelle. If Chick Gannen wouldn’t have married her, it was because he was stupid. His decision had nothing to do with her mother’s worth.

  “What did Paula say?” Helen asked later as they drove to the ranch house. “The way you came shooting out of those trees, at first I thought a bear was after you.”

  Charlotte was more interested in Paula’s sister. “What was Lara like?”

  “Don’t judge her by Paula. She was lively, but kind. And hardworking. Matt started dating her when he was fifteen and she was fourteen. Matt went off to Colorado State University and Lara followed him a year later. They married after her first year of school, and Tim arrived two weeks after Matt graduated. They were the perfect couple, ranch kids who knew what they wanted, and deeply in love. I ran the ranch, with Matt helping during vacations, until Matt and Lara came back. I relied heavily on Charlie after my first husband died, and marrying Charlie seemed the right thing to do. Maybe I should have waited awhile, not been so anxious to leave Lara and Matt on their own. Matt was so determined to prove himself, he worked twenty-four hours a day. If I’d stayed, I could have watched Tim, and Lara could have been out on a horse, working right beside Matt.” A light rain began falling, and Helen switched on the windshield wipers. “When I saw them together, they seemed happy. I didn’t realize... Matt blames himself.”

  “Matthew told me she was killed,” Charlotte said.

  “A movie company was here making a Western. They wanted locals who could ride. On a lark, Lara signed up.” Helen squinted into the increasing rain. “I hope we make it home before this gets worse,” she said absently, before returning to the subject of Lara. “She was beautiful and when she rode her mare, the two of them were a sight to see. Everyone noticed Lara, made over her.”

  “So she went to Hollywood to be a movie star,” Charlotte guessed.

  “She felt like life had passed her by. Dating only Matt, marrying so early... Matt had no idea she was bored and unhappy. They made an agreement. She’d give Hollywood a try for one year, coming home at least twice a month. Matt and Tim moved in with Charlie and me. Matt thought she’d discover Hollywood was full of beautiful women and
come home.” Helen’s voice flattened. “She’d been out there three weeks when she was shot. She died on the way to the hospital.”

  “Poor Matthew. He must miss her very much.”

  “Yes.” Helen hunched over the steering wheel. Lightning flashed to their right. “Paula’s right about one thing. He should get married again. Not for Timmy, but... Matt’s still a young man. I don’t believe in locking up hearts. I loved Matt’s dad, but I found happiness with Charlie, too, even if he was a cantankerous old buzzard.”

  “I don’t imagine many women would want to compete with the memory of a beautiful, dashing young wife,” Charlotte said.

  “Nonsense. Don’t let your mother’s example sway you into thinking a person can only fall in love once in a lifetime.” Helen turned to face Charlotte earnestly across the bench seat. “Sure, Matt loved Lara, but that’s the past. Matt has plenty of love left in him for a second wife. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Before Charlotte could point out her lack of interest in Matthew’s ability to love a second wife, Helen’s split second of inattention allowed the pickup to develop a mind of its own. The vehicle slid inexorably to the side of the road in spite of the older woman’s best efforts. “Darn gumbo,” Helen said grimly.

  Before Charlotte could ask what gumbo was, the vehicle slipped off the road and jarred and jolted its way down a short but steep incline, Helen fighting the wheel. Charlotte stared in horror, praying they’d reach bottom without meeting total disaster. Just when it appeared her prayers would be answered, a small, insignificant bush proved to be obstacle enough to flip the pickup. The landscape whirled by in a tumbling kaleidoscope of green and brown and blue, yet at the same time they seemed to be rolling over in slow motion, with Charlotte aware of the scent of damp sage, the smell of ozone, a bird fluttering up from a bush. She thought she was screaming. The pickup bounced to a stop, shuddered and then slowly settled upright on its tires.