“Yes,” she struggled, “but in many ways it was a memorable trip. And if we could simply somehow put that one mistake behind us, then perhaps we could retain a warm acquaintance for the future.” My God, she upbraided herself. Are you talking to a man you slept with and love, or are you preparing for law school?
As for A.J., his direct, gunmetal scrutiny held her for an interminable time. Then, in a slow, harsh, almost chilling voice, he spoke.
“For me, what happened between us was no mistake. Unlike you, I slept with you and don’t regret it. And after what I felt—what you made me feel for you up there on that mountain—I’ll be damned if I’ll settle for some puny ‘warm acquaintance.’ I’d rather be dead to you than spend the rest of my life making small talk to a woman I love.”
A woman I love.
The shock of those words struck her like blows. A sudden rush of powerful feelings closed her throat before she could say anything.
A.J., clearly starting to feel the sting of this latest humiliation, added bitterly, “One more thing before I shut up. What I felt with you…what I mean is, the kind of people I come from put plenty of meaning into a man and woman connecting like I thought we did. If you can seriously just call it a ‘mistake,’ treat it like nothing, maybe you oughta think about living some other place. Because that’s not the kind of people we are in Mystery.”
Now it was Jacquelyn’s turn to stare, her eyes filling with unshed tears. There was so much she wanted to say to him right then, so many things he didn’t understand, that he misperceived. But her feelings, at this sudden revelation of his own closely guarded emotions, overwhelmed her ability to speak.
The surrey reached the outskirts of town and bore down on the well-lit common square a few blocks ahead of them. Her inability to answer right away was damning her, but she was unable to muster the words that were blossoming in her heart.
“Aw, hell!” he exclaimed, reining in the gelding. The surrey stopped in the middle of deserted Main Street.
“Not even for Hazel, not this time,” he said in a quiet, determined voice. “A man’s got his pride, after all.”
He tipped his hat at Jacquelyn. “You’re on your own from here,” he told her. “I’m going home and getting drunk.”
The surrey swayed as A.J. started to swing down. Devastated, Jacquelyn struggled to find her voice.
“A.J.,” she called, barely managing to speak above a whisper. “Those nights had meaning for me, too.”
He stopped, then turned around and walked slowly back. He came up on her side of the surrey, only inches from her.
“Speak up,” he demanded.
“I said,” she replied evenly, “those nights had meaning for me, too.”
“That right?” he said, needling her, lifting a sardonic eyebrow. “And just what meaning was that?”
In a low, rough voice, she answered with the only word she could manage. “Love.”
Her insides breaking like thin ice, she sat in the surrey, not able to move. Her only instinct at the moment was to salvage any pride she possibly might have left. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t be an ice princess around him. She just couldn’t.
A surprised groan came from A.J.’s throat when her words struck home. His muscular arms enfolded her and pulled her down from the seat, stroking her cheek with a warm hand.
“You know what?” he said tenderly, once he had her in his embrace. “You just said the one word I’ve been praying to hear from you.”
She met his gaze, hardly able to believe that he, too, could feel the kind of loneliness and despair she carried inside. And hardly able to believe that the night on Bridger’s Summit and the night afterward were also a cruel always-out-of-reach balm for his soul, too.
“Guess we better finish this ride if we’re going to?” he suggested reluctantly.
She nodded, tears in her smile. “Let’s knock ’em dead, Jake.”
But as the surrey neared the corner of the courthouse, the realization of what had just passed between them seemed to have struck both of them. Despite good intentions, A.J. seemed to forget the horse and surrey and the big crowd waiting for them only seconds away.
He leaned close, taking her hungry lips in a passionate kiss just as Rip came wheeling around the corner into an explosion of lights.
Only the sustained cheering and applause of the assembled townies finally startled the two lovers back into the present moment.
Jacquelyn scooted back over to her side of the seat, but it was too late. The passionate and highly public kiss had just officially opened the festivities on a high note. And there, watching from her place of honor on a wooden viewing stand, stood Hazel, her gnarled hands clutched in glee.
At long last, thought the Matriarch of Mystery, she’d found a way to save her beloved town.
And save it she would.
For this was just the beginning….
Epilogue
From the Helena, Montana Register
Mystery, Montana—Rodeo star A. J. Clayburn and noted journalist Jacquelyn Rousseaux exchanged nuptials today at Hazel McCallum’s world-famous Lazy M Ranch in Mystery Valley.
A lengthy guest list mingled “old money” Southern aristocrats with celebrities from the international rodeo circuit. As Bonnie Lofton, editor of Mystery’s local newspaper put it: “For every pair of Gucci open weaves, I spotted a pair of cowhide boots.”
The groom, thirty-one, recently overcame a serious injury to capture his second consecutive World Cup in saddle-bronc riding. His bride, twenty-five, drew national mention earlier this year from the prestigious School of Journalism at Columbia University. Her Montana feature story, “Riding McCallum’s Trace,” received a Golden Quill Award for excellence in regional reporting.
“I was pleased, but completely surprised, to learn of the romance,” Hazel McCallum told reporters. “I’m sure it must have been love at first sight, just spontaneous. And I suspect there’s going to be a rash of matrimonies coming up in Mystery.”
When asked how she could possibly know that, the cattle baroness only replied with a mysterious smile, “Oh, a woman of my age knows these things.”
ISBN: 978-1-4592-1347-0
THE COWBOY MEETS HIS MATCH
Copyright © 2000 by Ruth Goodman
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