by Diana Palmer
Maris reached the second floor. “So what’re you two doing to pass the time, playing cards or something?”
“Keith’s not here.”
“He’s not? He’s not at the house, either. Where is he?”
“Don’t get panicky. Jessica McCallum came along and took him for a ride.”
Maris heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I couldn’t imagine where he might have gone on foot in this downpour.”
The loft was chilly and damp. “Come on into my room. I’ve got the electric heater going,” Luke said.
Maris followed him into his room. Luke closed the door. “You know who Jessica is, don’t you?” Maris said.
“I figured it out the first time she came around.”
“Yes, well, she must want to talk to Keith about something.” Maris loosened her jacket. “She comes out to see him every so often.”
“Have a seat,” Luke offered.
“I’m too excited to sit. Luke, I finally made contact with Katherine Willoughby.” Maris related what Katherine had told her about her father, his ranch and his horses. “So if she can locate those records, we’ll have proof of their lineage to present at the auction. Isn’t that great?”
“It’ll only be great if she finds the records, Maris.”
“Yes, but I have a very strong feeling that she’s going to find them.”
Luke grinned slightly. “Woman’s intuition?”
Maris grinned back, until she remembered what else she had to tell Luke. “Um…I went to see Pete Riddick at the Sundowner, Luke.”
His grin disappeared. “To do what?”
Deciding to present this news as though he couldn’t possibly be offended, Maris put on a big smile. “I paid him for the damages to his place and he dropped the charges against you. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“You paid him? How much?”
“Luke, the amount doesn’t matter. But now you don’t have to appear in court. The whole thing’s over. Aren’t you thrilled?” He didn’t look thrilled, she saw with a sinking sensation. “Don’t tell me you’re upset because I just possibly might have saved you from spending some time in jail, for pity’s sake!”
“I wouldn’t have gone to jail,” Luke said stonily.
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because of the circumstances.”
Maris’s lips thinned. “Oh, is two men fighting over a woman acceptable behavior these days? If it is, I certainly haven’t heard about it.”
Luke’s eyes narrowed on her in a hard look. “Who told you that?”
“No one had to tell me. Pete said there were women in the place when the fight broke out, and I can put two and two together as well as anyone else.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Luke leaned his hips against the bureau. “So you’ve got it all figured out, have you? You know something, Maris? I’m beginning to understand why Ray drank.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “How…how dare you say such a thing to me?” she said hoarsely, on the verge of tears. There was no way she could defend herself against such an unfair accusation, but as quickly as her throat had filled with tears, just as quickly the urge to cry vanished and was replaced by cold fury. “You bastard,” she said, her eyes shooting daggers. “There are a lot of things I will never put up with from a man again, and mental cruelty is one of them.”
Luke wasn’t exactly calm, either. “What the hell do you think your assumption that I fought with Benteen over a woman was, if not mental cruelty? Clean up your own act before you start judging mine, Maris.”
“Are you saying a woman was not the cause of your fight last night?” Her words dripped skepticism.
“Actually a woman was involved, but not in the way you’re thinking.” Luke pointed an angry finger at her. “I didn’t have to go to court to get tried and convicted, Maris. You did that all by your lonesome. And you’re far from perfect, lady, damned far, too far to be acting so superior. You know what your biggest problem is? You’re afraid of being human.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means, as well as I do.”
“You’re referring to our…our…”
Luke raked his hair into a mess. “For crying out loud, say it like it is. We didn’t commit murder, Maris. We made love. Making love doesn’t make you a criminal. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. You’re a good and decent woman.”
“Decent women do not go to bed with the hired help,” she snapped.
Luke’s lips thinned. “Sometimes you talk like a damned fool.”
“And you’re a jerk!” Maris started for the door, then stopped. “Since you asked, I paid Riddick six hundred and thirty dollars, which I’ll be only too happy to deduct from that three thousand I never owed you in the first damned place!”
She stormed out. For a second Luke was dumbfounded by the staggering sum she had paid Pete Riddick. But then he bounded from the room and caught Maris by the arm before she could start down the ladder. “Do you know what was broken in his place last night? One damned chair. A few tables got knocked over, but I would swear on a Bible they weren’t damaged. Oh, yes, a few glasses got shattered. Does one chair and a few glasses add up to six hundred and thirty bucks to you? They sure don’t to me, sweetheart, and besides, Benteen should have paid half the damages, which he would have been forced to do if you hadn’t stuck in your nose and stopped us from going to court!”
Maris jerked her arm out of his hand. “Don’t you ever touch me again, and don’t worry about me doing you any more favors, you…you ingrate!” Her bravado was all on the outside, however. Internally she was cringing because Luke was right. Benteen should have paid half the damages. She should have kept her nose out of it.
But she had pictured Luke as guilty and drawing a jail sentence from a coldhearted judge, and she needed him to finish breaking the horses. It was all too much, and she suddenly felt her legs giving out. Moving to one of the heavy beams that supported the roof of the barn, she leaned against it, all her fighting spirit gone.
“Oh, damn,” she moaned, turning to hide her face from Luke.
He looked at her forlorn figure and felt his own anger losing impetus. “Maris, it’s done. Just forget it,” he said wearily. “Deduct the sum you paid Riddick from the three thousand. I just don’t give a damn about it anymore. I’ll finish breaking your horses and get the hell out of Montana the minute they’re sold.” He hesitated, then added, “And I’m sorry I made that crack about why Ray drank. I don’t know where it came from, because it’s not how I feel about you at all.”
His apology didn’t alleviate the pain his remark had caused Maris, but she stopped hiding her face and turned around. He looked utterly miserable, she saw, which, perversely, made her feel even worse than she had. “I…I’m sorry, too. I thought I was helping by going to see Pete Riddick. And I’m sorry I called you names. I seem so on edge lately.” She ran her fingers through her damp hair, pushing it back from her face. “I’d like us to get along for the remainder of your stay here. Do you think we can manage to do that?”
“We can try,” Luke said quietly. Even though she was damp, a little disheveled and unquestionably upset, Maris made him think of sex. He’d rather kiss her than fight with her any day of the week. He took a long breath for caution, because in the back of his mind was a question that wouldn’t go away. If he made a pass right now, would she melt as she’d done before? Or would a sexual advance from him at this point finish destroying their already deteriorating relationship?
Maris was again thinking of the mystery woman who had caused the fight, though “not in the way she’d been thinking.” What had Luke meant by that? However badly she wanted to know, she couldn’t bring herself to ask.
“I’m going to the house,” she said, sounding tired and defeated.
“Put your hood up. The rain is still coming down hard.”
She looked Luke in the eye. “Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. Don’t give me advice, Lu
ke. I don’t like it any more than you do. And maybe I do talk like a damned fool sometimes, but so do you.”
“Aw, hell.” Luke groaned. Turning on his heel, he returned to his quarters and slammed the door behind him. If that was Maris’s idea of getting along, she must have slipped a cog.
He frowned at that notion. She hadn’t been that edgy when he’d first gotten to the ranch. In fact, she hadn’t been that edgy until today. Maybe his getting arrested had upset her a lot more than she’d indicated last night when she’d bailed him out. But that conclusion didn’t seem completely accurate, either, not when she had gone out of her way today to make sure he didn’t spend some time in jail.
Standing at the window and watching Maris running through the rain—with her hood up—to the house, Luke shook his head and admitted that he knew only two things for sure with this peculiar lady. One, he never stopped wanting her, and two, as he’d told her last night, she was indeed driving him crazy. Sad to realize, there couldn’t possibly be a cure for what ailed him as far as Maris went. Not when he couldn’t even give the disease a name.
Glancing at the clock every few minutes, Maris made supper. Jessica keeping Keith this long—a good three hours—had never happened before and didn’t feel quite right to Maris. Worrying that something was wrong, she browned a chicken, then put it in the oven to bake, along with three large potatoes.
Her thoughts weren’t only on Keith, however. What woman had been involved in Luke and Jim Benteen’s brawl last night? And how was she involved? Why hadn’t Luke come right out and explained? Did he think it was none of her business and never planned to tell her about it? What was strange was that Pete Riddick’s explanation of the fracas hadn’t pinpointed a woman. He’d merely said that he didn’t like that sort of thing occurring in his place with women present.
At five-thirty, the normal dinner hour, Luke rapped on the kitchen door and walked in. “Isn’t Keith back yet?”
“No, and I’m getting very worried. Did Jessica say anything about keeping him so long?”
“All she said was that she needed to talk to him and would he please take a ride with her.”
“I see.” Maris thought a moment. It was possible that Jessica was seeing to Keith’s supper, though it really wasn’t at all like her to be inconsiderate of Maris’s routines. Regardless, Keith wasn’t the only mouth to feed on this ranch and Luke was probably hungry. “Everything is ready, Luke. We may as well go ahead and eat. I can warm the meal for Keith if he hasn’t already eaten when he gets home.”
Sixteen
They weren’t at the table more than five minutes, when a motor noise announced an arriving vehicle. “It’s them,” Maris said with obvious relief. Rising, she went to the window. Though true nightfall was still some hours away, the rain and heavy cloud cover darkened the area. Still, Maris could identify Jessica’s car. “It’s them,” she repeated with a glance back at Luke.
Luke had started eating, but he laid down his fork. “Don’t wait,” Maris said. “Keith will be right in.” She resumed her place at the table, anticipating Keith bounding in at any moment and plopping into his chair.
But minutes passed and then more minutes, and still Keith didn’t appear. They could hear the idling engine of Jessica’s car and Maris began worrying again. “Something’s wrong,” she murmured, more to herself than to Luke. Maris wondered if she should go outside and speak to Jessica, then argued herself out of it. If Jessica wanted to talk to her, she wouldn’t be sitting in her car.
Finally the door opened and Keith walked in. Maris stood up and smiled, although Keith’s down-in-the-mouth expression really didn’t invite smiles. “I’m glad you’re home,” she said to the boy. She saw him swallow and noted the paleness of his face. “Is anything wrong, Keith?” she asked gently.
“Jessica wanted to come in with me, but I told her I could do this. My dad died.”
“Oh, Keith. What happened?”
“He died in his sleep last night. The doctor said he had a heart attack.” Keith held out a folded piece of paper. “Jessica wrote this just now so I could bring it in to you.”
Jessica’s writing her a message was the reason Keith hadn’t immediately come in, Maris thought, accepting the paper. “Shall I read it now?” she asked Keith. “Dinner’s on the table. Are you hungry?”
“I’m not, Maris, thanks. I think I’ll go to my room, if you don’t care.”
“Of course I don’t care.” She went to Keith and put her arms around him. “If or when you feel like talking, I’ll be here.”
Luke had gotten to his feet. “So will I, Keith.”
“Thanks, Luke.” The boy shuffled from the kitchen with his head down.
Maris slowly sank to her chair. Luke returned to his. They looked at each other across the table, empathy and sympathy mingling on the path of their gazes. “I had better read this,” Maris said quietly, indicating the note from Jessica:
Maris,
I tried calling you several times today, but you were apparently out. Now Keith prefers going in and telling you about Terrance by himself and I feel as though I should honor his request. He hasn’t cried, Maris, which maybe is only to be expected, given his sad and abnormal relationship with his father. He has also said very little today. We went to the prison, then to a funeral home to make arrangements for Terrance’s interment. I’m sure it was all quite traumatic for Keith, though he showed very little emotion throughout.
At any rate, I will be calling tomorrow. Keith is going to have to wade through this on his own, Maris, though it will be enormously therapeutic for him to know that we all care about his pain and that he has friends who will remain constant.
Jessica
Maris lifted her eyes to Luke’s. “Would you like to read it?”
He nodded. “If you don’t mind.”
She handed the paper across the table. It was while Luke was intent on Jessica’s handwriting that Maris felt the first gush of tears. Sniffling, she got up for a tissue and blew her nose. But once flowing, the tears wouldn’t stop. Standing with her hips against the sink counter, she wept silently and wiped away tears.
Luke started to say something as he raised his eyes from the paper, but stopped short when he saw Maris crying. “Did you know Terrance Colson?”
“No. I recognized him on the street, of course, but I never knew him personally.”
“Then you’re crying for Keith.”
“I…I guess so.” With a fresh tissue, she wiped away another spate of tears. “I didn’t cry for Ray,” she said, and covered her face with her hands.
The unhappy, embittered tone of her voice startled Luke almost as much as what she’d said. He got up, rounded the table and gently pulled her into his arms. She wept into his shirt and accepted the comfort he was offering. What she’d said was the God’s truth. Instead of sorrow over Ray’s untimely death, she had felt resentment that he would die so unnecessarily. Before his death she had cried too many times to count, but after the accident and even at the funeral her eyes had contained deeply rooted anger instead of tears.
Luke’s natural warmth lessened the chill in her soul. It felt good to be held and soothed and treated as someone special. Her thoughts turned from sorrows the world over to the immediate present, to how she felt in Luke’s arms. It wasn’t shocking anymore to think about falling in love with him, though remembering that his time here was running out created an almost unbearable ache in the vicinity of her heart.
Jessica’s comment in her note about Keith’s having to wade through this by himself rang true for Maris, as well. She, too, had something to wade through. Foolishly she had become emotionally involved with a wandering man, and she would pay for it, possibly for the rest of her life.
She stepped back, though Luke’s hands remained on her shoulders. His eyes contained concern and caring, which touched her deeply. “Are you all right now?” he asked softly.
“Yes, I’m fine.” It was a lie, but if she said, “No, I might never be al
l right again,” he would force her to talk about old events and hurts that she didn’t even want to think about, let alone discuss. “Finish your dinner, Luke. Wait, let me put your plate in the microwave for a minute.” Darting away from him, she whisked his plate of food from the table and into the microwave to reheat.
They sat at the table, though neither had much appetite. Maris was despondent and showed it. “Is it best to leave Keith be, or should one of us go to his room and talk to him?”
“I think we should give him some space for a while, Maris. When he’s ready to talk he’ll come to us.”
“He’s so young to be all alone in the world.” Maris’s eyes filled again.
“He’s not alone. He has you and he has me, too, if he wants me.”
“But you’re not going to be around much longer.” Maris bit down on her lip. Keith would miss Luke, too. He had started out shy and reticent around Luke, but she’d known for some time now that the boy enjoyed working with Luke and being in his company. Then Maris remembered Mrs. Colson, Terrance’s mother. “Keith has a grandmother somewhere. I’m sure Jessica must have notified her.”
Luke acknowledged the information about Keith’s grandmother with a nod, though his mind was strangely stuck on Maris’s remark about his impending departure. The thought of driving away and putting Maris, Keith and the No Bull out of his life was intensely disturbing. But what could he say? Maris, I’ve been thinking about staying. How would she receive such a remark? Their arrangement ended in September. Once the horses were sold she and Keith could easily care for the few beeves on the ranch. She’d mentioned turning the No Bull back into a cattle ranch, but that would take time, and resources she didn’t have. Unless the horse auction was a rousing success, that is, which was a distinct possibility should Katherine Willoughby locate her father’s breeding records.
They finally stopped pretending to eat and pushed their plates back. Tonight Maris was in no hurry to clear the table and get the dishes washed. By the same token, she noted, Luke didn’t appear in any hurry to leave, probably because of the weather. Before it started raining he’d been going out to the corral or one of the pastures after dinner to work with the horses till dark, and tonight’s heavy rainfall pretty much eliminated any outside activity.
