Storm's Interlude

by Vonnie Davis

  “Fabulous. She’s still thin though.” Jackson raised his coffee cup to his lips.

  “Give me a couple weeks with her. I’ve changed her diet. You know, I think you’re very good for her. She’s more animated with you here.” Rachel swung her shapely legs off the chaise. Storm tried not to stare at her thin ankles in those “ho red” heels…or those siren red toenails…or those shapely calves.

  Her voice tore his fantasy-hazed mind from her legs. “The happier a patient is, the stronger they fight. They’ve got more reasons to live. You could be a big help. Women love a little romance.”

  “Jackson here has a way of flubbing up romance.”

  “Kiss my ass, Blackhawk.” Both men chuckled, good friends that they were.

  “Make sure you seek Sunny out before you go. Cancer patients need the healing of another human’s touch, a hug, a kiss.” She favored Jackson with a dazzling smile.

  “She keeps pushing me away. I keep actin’ like an ass.”

  “That you do.” Storm raised his coffee cup in a mock salute. Jackson made a crude gesture. Both men chuckled again. Their history ran deep.

  Rachel scratched behind Pistol’s long ears. “Be gently insistent, Jackson. Show her how much she means to you. She’s just scared. This cancer is enough to scare even the strongest person.”

  “I’ll try. I’ve got a lot of makin’ up to do with that woman. Don’t know if she’ll give me the chance. I didn’t handle the news of her cancer well. Went on a drunken binge. Acted ten times the fool.” He rubbed a hand over his face before turning to Storm. “Those mustangs still comin’ tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, around noon or after. Finally have the corral enlarged.”

  “Need some help?” Jackson took another sip of his coffee.

  “I’d welcome another pair of hands. The mustangs are bound to be scared and full of unexpected moves when they’re unloaded.”

  “Mustangs?” Rachel had Pistol on her lap, still scratching behind his ears. The Basset was in dog heaven.

  “Yeah, after countless phone conversations and a hellacious mountain of governmental paperwork, I’m taking a delivery of ten head of wild mustangs for the Bureau of Land Management. Some parts of the state are having a bad drought, the free range being one of them. I offered to let some graze here until fall, maybe longer if needed. Rain’s been good to us here this year. Grass is plentiful.”

  “Fascinating. I can help if you’re shorthanded. I’ve ridden for years. I wouldn’t know all your ranch hands do, but I’d be better than nothing. I follow directions well.”

  Jackson chuckled. “I just bet you do. Hear that, Storm?”

  He scowled at his best friend before looking at Rachel. “Do you have jeans and boots? I don’t want you around my men in those skintight clothes you wear for running.”

  She beamed a smile. “Sure do. I’ll get my run in early, shower and change. I’ll work with Sunny for an hour and make sure she’s fine. Wild mustangs, how exciting!”

  Not nearly as exciting as thinking of her in a shower. His libido had snagged on that vision and refused to let it go. He narrowed his eyes and glared at the woman who’d had him in knots since she’d made that remark about the French beret out on Longhorn Road. Why her? Why not Pilar? Even the times he’d showered with Pilar, he hadn’t been as aroused as he was at this moment. Damn the blonde-haired minx anyhow.

  “Unkie Storm! I’m all clean fwom my baf.” Sawyer streaked onto the patio wearing Sponge Bob pajamas, a book in his grasp and his hair still wet. Storm held out his arms for his nephew, who shot into them. He loved the comfort of this child on his lap.

  If he’d married Pilar and she’d had her way, Sawyer would have been the closest he came to being a father. Pilar made it quite clear getting “big with child” and “changing disgusting diapers” was not in her future. Thank God, all that was no longer as issue. Eventually, he’d meet someone else who wanted children and him exclusively.

  “Mommy got me a new Georgie book.” Sawyer wiggled and grunted and settled into Storm’s lap. He held the book in front of Storm’s face, waving it back and forth. “Will you wead it to me?”

  “I didn’t hear the magic word.” Storm gave the child a stern look.

  “Oops. Sowwy. Will you please wead it to me?”

  Sunny lowered herself into a chair next to Jackson. “Does Unkie Storm have a choice?” She laughed softly.

  Jackson reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. “You always were beautiful in the moonlight.”

  Sunny’s eyes opened wide. “Well, aren’t you just full of compliments tonight?”

  Jackson winked. “Darlin’, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  “Okay, grown-ups. Time to be quiet while I read Curious George Goes to the Beach.”

  Sawyer laid his head against Storm’s chest. “I wuv you, Unkie Storm.”

  Storm kissed the child’s dark hair, inhaling the smell of the child’s shampoo and savoring that sense of contentment he always felt when holding this little fellow. “I love you, too, son.”

  Chapter Six

  Sawyer fell asleep during Storm’s second reading of the new book. The child’s gentle, nasal breathing brought a sense of peace to the summer night. “Want me to carry him up to his bed, sister? Give you and Jackson some time alone.”

  “Yes, please. I think it’s about time Jackson and I had a long talk.” Their hands were joined and both were smiling.

  Storm stood, holding the sleeping boy. “Rachel, I’ve a hankering for a moonlight ride. How long has it been since you rode a horse? Could I interest you in joining me?”

  “I haven’t ridden since Dad died. Yes, I think I’d enjoy a ride.” She stood also, a feeling of excitement fluttering in her belly. Time alone with Storm…was this a good idea or not? “I’ll need to change clothes.”

  “Me, too. I’ll meet you at the stables then.” Storm flashed a smile, obviously pleased she’d agreed to accompany him.

  “Sounds great.” When they reached the top of the steps, she turned to Storm. She pressed a gentle kiss to Sawyer’s forehead. The child was limp as a ragdoll in his uncle’s strong arms. “Need any help tucking him in?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got the drill down pat.”

  Rachel hurried into her room and changed into jeans, a pink shirt and boots she’d bought earlier that day. The boots were a little stiff, being new, but she figured they’d loosen up eventually. She bent over at the waist and ran a brush through her long hair, brushing out tangles. She was tired of taking care of it. Maybe the next time she took Sunny to the doctor, she’d get it cut and donate it to Locks of Love. She sprayed perfume on her neck, out of habit, surely not because she expected to get close enough to Storm Blackhawk for him to get a whiff. She rolled her eyes. Perish the thought.

  When Rachel passed through the kitchen on her way to the stables, she grabbed a handful of sugar cubes for the horses. Outside lights were blazing at the stables, softly illuminating the tall man who was deftly saddling a mare. She stopped for a minute to watch the way Storm interacted with the horse. Their exchange seemed like a gentle conversation, as if he were catching up with an old friend. She smiled at the charm of his actions. A man who loved animals and small children couldn’t be all bad.

  Storm turned to watch Rachel as she approached. He’d changed into jeans and a white T-shirt, his black Stetson was settled on his head. He handed her the reins. “Rachel, meet Princess. She’s a good, gentle mare, but she’s responsive. She’ll keep up with the best of them if you give her a chance.”

  She extended an open hand with a sugar cube on it. “Hello, Princess. My, aren’t you pretty.”

  Storm chuckled. “Flattery and sugar—you know how to get to a horse’s heart.”

  “Well, all girls love flattery and sugar. Right, Princess?” She patted the mare’s neck, and the horse nickered and nodded. What a mundane remark to make. Now he probably thinks you’re fishing for compliments. She cut her gaze to Storm
and was relieved to see he was busy with his horse. She needed to relax. This was merely going to be a short ride.

  “Princess’s eyes are unusual, quite beautiful.” She cocked her head to the side and rubbed the horse’s velvety soft nose. “Her eyes have an almost human quality to them. They’re blue. She’s Appaloosa, isn’t she?”

  Storm was smoothing a blanket over his mount, a large midnight black stallion with a jagged sliver of white on his forehead. “Yeah, she is. Her breed was almost wiped out by the U.S. Calvary years ago.” He lifted a saddle off a rack and slung it across his mount’s back as if it weighed nothing.

  “Why would the Calvary kill off horses?” She glanced at Princess and rubbed the mare’s face. “I mean, wouldn’t the Calvary need horses? Seems rather counter-productive. Like, well, like if I, being a nurse, killed off my patients.”

  Storm yanked on the cinch. “Yeah, I get your point. You’re right about it not making much sense. From what my dad told me, the Calvary chased the Nez Perce Indians into the Bear Paw Mountains up in Montana and then slaughtered many of their Appaloosas. He was half Nez Perce and half Comanche, my dad was.”

  “I thought I detected traces of Native American in you and Sunny.”

  “Our cheekbones give us away, don’t they?” He flashed her a smile.

  “Yes, that and your dark straight hair and dark eyes. Although you have a fierceness about you. I don’t detect it in Sunny, maybe because she’s ill.”

  “Sunny is very gentle in her own way. I’m more like my dad. Focused. Determined. Hell bent on having my way. Just like he was. My dad had dreams. Visions. I’ve started having them, too, now that he’s gone. Can be damn disconcerting at times.”

  She’d read about this while she was treating a patient in South Carolina with Comanche heritage. The patient was very focused on walking the Red Way, as the Elders called it. As his nurse, she’d needed an understanding of Native American philosophies and traditions to effectively treat the whole person. She’d found their culture fascinating, spiritual and very connected to the earth.

  She stepped closer. “Really? You mean you dream things and then they happen?”

  Storm reached out and skimmed his knuckles down her cheek. A gentle gesture so in conflict with the fierce expression in his eyes. Her stomach quivered in response and her breathing quickened.

  “Yes,” he whispered. He quickly turned his back to her, and she was sure she heard him mutter he’d dreamed her. Surely she’d misunderstood.

  “What about your mother? Was she Native, too?”

  He turned to face her again, his facial expression different this time. “No. Irish. Dad went to Ireland to buy a prize stallion. He met our mother while he was there. Didn’t buy the horse, but he brought her home to marry.” He expelled a harsh bark of laughter. “He’d have done better with the horse. The woman broke his heart.”

  “Yours, too, I gather.” She reached up and laid a hand over his heart. Touching patients this way was second nature to her, but the charge that went through her system just now was unexpected. She meant to pull away, but Storm’s callused hand covered hers as if he didn’t want to break the connection.

  He stared into her eyes for a long time. She tried to gauge his stern expression, imagining she saw pain and dejection there. This man was hurting; she responded to that, healer that she was. “You have a way of touching a person’s soul, Nurse Rachel. I’m not sure if I like that.”

  She’d made him uncomfortable. In working with patients, she’d learned when to back off. Now was the time to do so with him. She turned and placed a hand on his horse’s muzzle. “Tell me, who is this handsome fella?” She held out a cube of sugar. The horse made one step toward her and took the cube from her outstretched hand.

  “Mind your manners now, Lightning. Show the lady your good side.” Lightning nudged Storm’s shoulder. “Hey, careful!” The horse nudged the man again and backed him up a couple steps, and then the horse turned to Rachel, gently nuzzling her neck.

  Rachel laughed and wrapped her arms around Lightning’s neck. “He’s gorgeous. What a personality he has.”

  “He’s trying to claim you for himself, the big-feeling bag of bones.” The horse nodded and whinnied as if he understood Storm’s remark. Rachel laughed and returned to her horse, picking up the reins.

  Storm asked, “Need me to give you a leg up?”

  “No, I’m fine.” She hoped she’d be fine; it had been a year since she’d last ridden. A sigh of relief escaped her after she settled somewhat gracefully into the saddle.

  “I tried to adjust the stirrups for your height. How’d I do?” Storm wrapped a warm hand around her calf and checked the angle of her leg. “I figure you’re about five four. Right?” He looked up at her and she nodded. “Stirrups are still too long, aren’t they? Hold still. Gimme a sec.” He made some adjustments and walked in front of her horse to do the same to the other side. “Better?” His hand slid up her leg a few inches, and her eyes closed with pleasure as warmth jolted up her leg to her core. Princess danced sideways a few steps. No doubt the horse was picking up on Rachel’s hormonal vibes. When he asked if she was okay, she merely nodded.

  Storm swung onto his horse in one easy, fluid motion. Old leather creaked. “Ready?” He smiled at her and resettled his hat on his head.

  “Yep. You lead. I’ll follow.”

  His smile broadened, deepening those dazzling dimples. “Now those are words every man wants to hear.”

  She laughed. “In your dreams, cowboy. I follow no man.”

  Holding his reins in his left hand, he clucked his tongue to set his mount in motion. “Most of our horses respond to verbal commands. I don’t abide spurs being used on horses.”

  “Gee, guess I’ll have to save my spurs for better things, then.” Oh Lord, what had possessed her to say that? Like she even owned a pair of spurs; like she’d think to use them on…on… She shot a sideways glance at Storm. He’d stopped his horse and stared at her as if he’d been pole-axed or something. Please, Lord, just let the earth open up and swallow me whole. It can spit Princess back out, but keep me and my big mouth buried in some deep cavern.

  “Woman, you have a way of making a man wonder.” He looked at her for a couple more beats, shook his head once and set Lightning to walking. Princess obediently followed. Even though the moon was shining and the sky was filled with stars, Rachel figured the glow from the blush on her cheeks would illuminate their path. Storm leaned over and unlatched the gate leading to open pasture. “Where’d you learn to ride?”

  “Camp Conohatchee, a children’s camp. I worked there as a counselor for three summers during college. I gave classes in gymnastics and swimming. Carol Sue Linninger was the riding instructor. We became friends, and she taught me.”

  Princess matched Lightning’s steps. Storm looked at Rachel. “Did you enjoy working with children?”

  She smiled. “I loved it. Kids are so honest and eager to enjoy things. Like Sawyer and his new book tonight. You’re very good with him.”

  “He’s the bright spot in my life right now.” He shook his head and laughed. “He’s a handful at times, but then all Blackhawks are. It’s in the genes. Let’s pick up the pace a little. Lightning’s getting antsy.” The black horse began to cantor, and Princess followed suit.

  “How old were you when you started to ride?” She glanced at Storm, who certainly rode as one with the horse.

  “As soon as I started to crawl. Dad said if my legs were strong enough to crawl, I was ready to set a horse. Been riding ever since.”

  “How big is the Triple-S?”

  “Sixteen hundred acres and change. We raise cattle and horses. Some grains, mostly for our animals.”

  She glanced around in the semi-darkness. “So much land. How do you handle it all?”

  “It’s all I know. Dad had me across every inch of this land by the time I was six. I’m a rancher and proud of it. Love every tree, every blade of grass, every rock of this place. Dad l
oved it, too. Made me promise on his deathbed I’d never sell it. As if I could. Although I’d defy his final request if it meant Sunny had her health back.”

  “She’ll get it back if I have anything to do with it.”

  He shot her a glance. “You sound sure of yourself.”

  “I’m sure of Sunny. Inside where it counts, she’s strong. Her desire to live is her best weapon. Granted, things don’t always go the way we hope, but I’ve got a strong plan of attack in mind for her. I never give up.” She thought of her desire to be rid of Kyle. “Never.”

  They rode in companionable silence for a few minutes. “It’s hard for me to imagine how large sixteen hundred acres is. The house I grew up in is on a quarter of an acre. Seems like a lot to me when I have to mow the yard. I put it up for sale last week.”

  “I sense sadness in your voice. Is that what you really want to do with the property?”

  She shrugged and fought back tears. No, she wasn’t sure. Fact was she was selling to break ties with Yazoo City and Kyle Benson. She was selling her home for safety and peace of mind; the home with all the memories of her childhood and her dad. Kyle made her feel vulnerable, and she hated every nuance of that emotion. Perhaps she’d keep her emotions under control if she engaged more in conversation. “You know we hear all the time about Texas being the largest state in the union. Until you’re here, you have no concept of what that means.”

  Storm shifted in the saddle, causing the old leather to creak. “You’ll find most forms of geography in Texas. We have plains, low mountains, prairies, desert, marshland, wooded and bushy areas, beaches, rivers, lakes and the Gulf of Mexico. Won’t find a prettier state, Rachel.”

  “Gee, don’t you sound like the proud Texan.”

  “That I am. You couldn’t pay me to live anywhere else. I love this state, this ranch.” He looked around as if he were surveying all that lay around him. “My dad might be dead, but I see him everywhere on this ranch. I only wish he’d lived long enough to meet his grandson. Man, would he have spoiled that ankle-biter. Dad would’ve busted with pride to learn his first grandchild was named for him. This land is dad’s legacy to Sunny and me. It’ll be Sawyer’s one day.”