by Janet Dailey
Yet Natalie had no difficulty at all in picking out Colter from the others. Work-stained like all of them, there was an invisible cloak that set him apart. He sat easily in the saddle of a muscular chestnut horse. Natalie knew he was aware of everything going on around him.
Her concentration was centred on Colter. She didn’t notice the horse and rider quietly approaching until the buckskin’s head blocked her view. Her startled glance was caught by the gentle caress of Travis’s eyes before he swung their attention to the pen.
“What do you think of the exciting, action-packed life of a cowboy?” he asked drily. “Heat, stench, noise and ill-tempered cows. Who do you suppose we can appeal to for better working conditions?”
“I suppose the Man Upstairs,” Natalie smiled, tilting her head back to look up to the broad-shouldered man in the saddle, squinting her eyes when her hand could no longer shield them from the sun’s glare.
“You should have a hat if you’re going to be out in this sun,” Travis commented with a vague note of genuine concern.
Natalie thought of her wide-brimmed straw hat with its bright artificial flowers. It was strictly the garden and pool-side kind, a ludicrous sight out here.
“So I’ve discovered,” was her reply. “I’m a true greenhorn,” she sighed. “I didn’t realise there were so many things involved in a round-up.”
Travis smiled broadly. “It’s more than rounding them up and branding the calves. They all have to be run through chutes and dipped for disease. The sick and crippled have to be separated and doctored. The calves are branded and ear-tagged with the bull calves being castrated to be sold later as feeding steers. None of it’s romantic or fun.”
Natalie coughed as a cloud of dust swirled around her, kicked up by a cow trying to elude a snaking rope. “I agree,” she said in a voice still choked by the dust. “The beer is in the back of the car. Do you want me to get it?”
Travis’s gaze shifted out to the pens in quick assessment. Colter was quietly walking his horse around the small herd in a route that brought him to the fence rail where they were.
“What do you think, Colter?” Travis asked. “Break now or finish the rest of this herd?”
Colter’s reply was unhesitating and Natalie guessed the decision had been made before he had ridden over. “We’ll finish this group and run the last herd in. They can be settling down while the men are resting.”
He hadn’t even glanced at her. She couldn’t stop the rigid tensing of her jaw. “How long will that be?” she asked.
There was a brief sliding glance over her face before Colter dismissed her from his attention. “Half an hour or more.”
“Am I supposed to stay?” Her voice was taut and weary-sounding as Natalie tried to hide her growing resentment at Colter’s impersonal attitude. “I still have to fix the roast for dinner, and Missy and Ricky will be coming home soon.”
She was pinned by the sharp edge of his steel-blue gaze, his chiselled features dispassionate and aloof. “You can go or stay, whichever you want, but don’t come crying to me about how much you have to do. If you want a shoulder to cry on,” he glanced with mocking scorn at the tall, rugged man astride the buckskin, “I’m sure Travis would be more than happy to offer his.” A dark, angry flush crept into Travis’s tanned cheeks, drawing a curling smile on Colter’s ruthless mouth. “As a matter of fact, Travis, why don’t you ride to the house with Natalie and bring the pickup back for the ice chest? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
With a contemptuous light still in his eyes, Colter reined his horse back to the centre of the pens. Self-consciously Natalie looked away from Travis. She had guessed that he liked her, but Colter had deliberately implied that his affection was deeper. What was more humiliating, Colter didn’t care.
“That man is too damned observant,” Travis muttered savagely beneath his breath. “He notices things that are none of his business.”
Natalie studied him through her lashes, although Travis never looked at her as he dismounted and waved to one of the men to take his horse. Angry resentment was in every severely controlled move as he vaulted the fence and walked to the car with Natalie trailing in sympathetic embarrassment behind him. In brooding silence, he took the ice chest from the car and carried it easily to a spot of shade under an oak. A jerky movement of his large hand signalled that she should drive.
When they were back on the road to the ranch house, Natalie glanced hesitantly at the darkly handsome man in the passenger seat, his arm resting on the opened window, a tightly clenched fist pressed to his lips, as he stared unseeingly out of the window.
“Travis, I’m — sorry.” Her fingers nervously clutched the wheel. “Colter shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why? It’s true.” A muscle in his jaw jerked as he spoke. “I should have handed in my notice that first week you came when I realised the way I felt,” he said with calm acceptance.
There was little Natalie could say. She couldn’t offer him any encouragement, especially when her feelings towards him were limited to friendship and admiration. Yet the thought of being deprived of his steadying companionship, of facing all those meals alone with Colter’s indifference, struck cold chills in her heart.
They both were silent the rest of the way to the ranch. Natalie realised that Travis had not wanted her to speak. For her to say that she was only fond of him would have been just as cruel as giving him false hope. He was not the type of man to read what he wanted into her silence. At the same time, there was a sense of assurance that he would be there if she ever needed him, with no questions asked and no strings attached.
Her mind kept asking if things would have been different if she had met Travis and Colter together at Fiesta San Antonio. The answer should have been easy. But there was the uncomfortable discovery that it was not. Another question loomed to the front. Why would she have chosen Colter over Travis? That answer eluded her as well.
SEVEN
THE START of Ricky’s riding lessons had been postponed until after the spring round-up was over. Natalie had decided to wait and refresh her own skills while Ricky learned. On the day of the promised event, Ricky had awakened when the eastern sky was a lemon dawn. It had required nearly all of Natalie’s ingenuity and patience to keep him occupied at the house until the appointed hour they were to meet Colter at the barns.
Ricky had persuaded Missy to come and watch, and she was now trailing after Natalie while Ricky impatiently blazed the way, hopping from one foot to the other at Natalie’s slower pace. Colter was just walking out of the corral gate when they arrived. Ricky darted past Colter through the open gate, intent on the horses tied to the rails inside.
“Which one is mine?” he asked excitedly, never taking his rounded dark eyes from the two horses.
“The bay on the left,” Colter answered.
“What’s his name?” Ricky breathed. Now that his horse was in view the need to hurry seemed to have fled.
Colter shrugged. “Joe.”
“Joe?” Dislike for the name was evident in the boy’s tone and his wrinkled nose. “That’s not a good name. I’ll call him Lightning,” Ricky decided.
Natalie had studied the two horses in silence. The stocky bay that Colter had identified as Ricky’s was the same size as the sorrel standing beside it, perhaps even more muscular. She had anticipated that Ricky’s mount would be a pony if not a small horse.
A frown of concern creased her forehead as she glanced to Colter’s impassive face. “Ricky’s too small to ride a full-grown horse.”
“A small pony can be just as hard to control as a big horse,” Colter replied firmly. “There isn’t a better horse around than Joe. You could set off a stick of dynamite beside him and he wouldn’t bat an ear.”
“His name is Lightning,” Ricky corrected. “Can I ride him now?”
“Walk over and untie his reins and bring him here,” Colter ordered. “Be sure to come up on his side so he can see you.”
Ricky was off
like a shot. Involuntarily Natalie stepped forward, her mouth opening to add her own words of caution to Colter’s clipped commands. Steel fingers closed over her wrist.
“Let him be.” A thread of steel also ran through Colter’s quietly spoken words. “You can’t do everything for him.”
“He’s so small,” Natalie gulped. Her gaze skittered away from the blue-green shimmer of his eyes and the tawny gold of his hair. She wished for the steadying influence of Travis instead of Colter’s unsettling presence.
“If you’re going to become hysterical, go back to the house,” was his callous response.
Pressing her lips tightly together, Natalie resolved not to voice any more of her inner apprehensions and suffer Colter’s ridicule. She watched in controlled silence as Ricky was swung into the tiny saddle on the horse’s broad back.
All of Colter’s instructions during the first lesson were crisply worded in a no-nonsense tone. Several times Natalie wanted to explain what Colter said in simpler terms that Ricky could understand, but held her silence, discovering minutes later that Ricky seemed to understand the adult level of Colter’s orders. Not until the lesson was over, one that was much too brief as far as Ricky was concerned, did Colter indicate that Natalie should try her horse.
After she had awkwardly circled the corral the first few times, most of her forgotten skill returned. But under Colter’s critically appraising eye, Natalie felt less than adequate. Only once did she feel a glow of satisfaction, and it wasn’t due to her efforts.
Missy, who had been painfully silent all the while she had sat on the top rail of the corral, watching first Ricky then Natalie, had finally made a comment. “Natalie should keep her heels down, Daddy,” she said.
Natalie had seen the swift glance Colter had given his daughter, but he had merely called out to Natalie to confirm Missy’s observation. Two thoughts had occurred to Natalie simultaneously. The first was that Missy wasn’t quite as reluctant to ride as she said and the second that Colter wasn’t as indifferent to his daughter as he seemed.
When the lessons were over and the horses were cooled off, unsaddled and turned out to graze, the four of them walked back to the house. While Ricky was bragging to Missy about his prowess in the saddle, Natalie tried to thank Colter for giving the lessons, which she knew were the first of many. Somehow, in her wording, she managed to convey the wrong impression and received a cynical look from Colter.
“Are you trying to say that you appreciate my time but you would prefer Travis?” he mocked.
Her eyes widened. “No,” she protested quickly. “I only meant that I appreciated you keeping your word with Ricky and teaching him to ride.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Again his blue gaze slashed at her.
“No, I did think you would —” Natalie began defensively.
“But you thought I would have someone else teach you, is that it?” Colter interrupted with a humourless smile.
“If you’re trying to say that I was looking forward to spending time alone with Travis, then you’re quite mistaken.” Her voice trembled as indignant anger took hold.
“I didn’t say that at all. You did,” he responded complacently.
“But you were thinking it,” she retorted.
In a series of fluid movements, Colter halted her steps with a hand on her wrist, turned her to face him, and cupped her face in the firm grip of his fingers. There was a mercurial rise of her pulse as she stared into the enigmatic depths of his green-turquoise eyes. Their attention was centred on her parted lips.
“Do you know what I’m thinking now?” he asked with deceptive softness.
Her legs were suddenly rubbery and her hands touched his waist for support. A jolting current was transmitted to Natalie, almost rocking her back on her heels.
“The children,” she whispered in protest at the slow descent of his head.
His hand had moved from her arm to the soft pliant flesh of her back, obedient to his every command. She felt the warm breath of his silent laughter an instant before his mouth closed over hers. She shuddered once in resistance before yielding to the exquisite pressure of his kiss.
Almost before it had begun, Colter moved away. Natalie swayed slightly towards him. His hand slid lightly from her throat to her shoulder, stopping her. This totally physical reaction she had to his touch drew a sigh of dismay from her throat. Would this betrayal of her pride never stop? she demanded silently. She loathed him. Her lashes fluttered upwards, but she saw he wasn’t looking at her.
“What is it, Ricky?” Colter asked calmly.
With panic-stricken swiftness, Natalie turned her head to the small boy standing in front of them, Colter’s hands still holding her prisoner. A thoughtful frown creased Ricky’s forehead as he stared at Colter.
“Do you like all that kissing stuff?” he asked, screwing his face up in dislike.
“It’s like spinach,” Colter answered in an amused tone. “You begin to like it when you get older.”
“Oh,” Ricky nodded, the subject no longer of interest to him. “Come on, Nonnie. You said we could have some cookies and milk.”
“I’m coming,” Natalie murmured, slipping free of Colter’s unprotesting hold.
Keeping her eyes downcast, she followed Ricky to the house, vividly aware of Colter’s catlike footsteps behind her.
Her and Ricky’s riding lessons continued for a week, held in the cool hours of the morning under Colter’s supervision. Ricky’s sturdy, tractable bay was anything but Lightning, although he obeyed the slightest command — right or wrong — that the reins in Ricky’s small hand gave. The commands were more often wrong than right. The uncanny way the horse sensed each time Ricky lost his balance and slowed to a walk or a stop to allow him to regain his seat endeared it to Natalie’s heart.
Her own efforts were much more successful. And she found that under Colter’s tutelage, she learned more about riding a horse than just staying in the saddle. There was a glow of accomplishment on her face when she circled the corral at a walk, a trot, and a canter, executed a series of figure eights and received not one criticism from Colter.
“We’ll go out after lunch,” he said as Natalie dismounted, “and see how you do in the open country.”
She darted him a look of suppressed excitement, wanting to express her joy and knowing he would regard it with mocking amusement. So she simply nodded a silent agreement and walked away to cool her sorrel, keeping the sensation of triumph locked inside.
After the lunch dishes were cleared and Ricky was safely on the school bus for his afternoon session, it was a different story. Natalie paused on her way to the barns to stand beneath an oak tree and gaze at the verdant meadow stretching out below her. Her mind’s eye pictured the image of herself cantering the sorrel over the meadow, a slight breeze blowing her hair. It was an idyllic image that soon was to come true.
She hurried her steps along the path through the trees, breaking into the sunshine a hundred feet from the corral. There she stopped short, the colour draining from her face. Her sorrel was hitched to the outside rail of the corral with Colter’s blaze-faced chestnut beside it. Colter was tightening the saddle cinch.
But it was the flashy black and white pinto impatiently stamping the ground and tossing its arched neck only a couple of feet away from Colter that Natalie was staring at, her happiness departing with the speed of a supersonic plane.
Astride the spirited pinto was Deirdre Collins, sophisticated and chic in her split riding skirt of rust brown with a matching vest over a white blouse. A flat-crowned, wide-brimmed hat of the same shade of brown accented the fiery lights of her long hair caught at the back of her neck. There was smug satisfaction in the emerald green eyes as she studied Natalie’s look of stunned dismay.
“There you are, Natalie,” Deirdre called out gaily, directing Colter’s unreadable glance in her direction. “Colter and I have been waiting for you.”
Natalie unconsciously bristled at the familiar way Deir
dre coupled her name with Colter’s. Her chin lifted with rigid pride as she forced her feet to carry her to the pair.
“I didn’t know you were here, Miss Collins, or I would have been here sooner,” she replied curtly.
That remark drew a melodious laugh from the redhead, which angered Natalie further. She cast an accusing glance at Colter’s lazily watchful eye. The mocking light in his blue-green eyes subtly reminded her of her rash statement after Deirdre’s last visit to the ranch, the time she had tried to elude his embrace by promising that Deirdre could come any time. And Natalie flushed in silent outrage.
“Daddy was checking some cattle not too far from here,” Deirdre was saying. “I decided at the last minute to go with him and ride over for a visit. When Colter told me he was taking you for your first cross-country trip on horseback, I invited myself along. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Natalie replied stiffly.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like learning to ride,” Deirdre added in a patronising tone. Her gaze shifted from Natalie to Colter, an intimate expression in their green depths. “Colter and I were practically born in the saddle.”
A chill vibrated Natalie’s nerve ends. Her riding ability was no match for theirs. She could feel her confidence already dissolving. Her stomach churned sickeningly as she saw herself forgetting everything that Colter had taught her. There was a terrifying urge to flee before she was humiliated by their superior skill and became the object of silent ridicule.
Colter untied their horses, walking to Natalie and passing her the reins of the sorrel. His perceptive gaze swept her face with mocking thoroughness. His whipcord length blocked Deirdre’s view of Natalie’s trembling hands as she took the reins, but he had noticed them.
“You forgot your hat,” he said drily.
“My hat?” Natalie echoed blankly. “I don’t wear a hat.”
