"Hear you went into Jackson with Wade Lowry last night to see a show. Have a good time?"
She sighed. She had answered that very question half a dozen times already that day. Why was it she couldn't even buy a new toothbrush without everybody hearing about it?
"They have a talented group this year, even though those college kids seem to get younger and younger every year."
"Time marches on, whether we want it to or not."
True enough. Just that morning she had ruthlessly yanked a solitary gray hair from among her short dark cap like a gardener after weeds. Maybe that's why she couldn't seem to shake this black mood. It surely didn't have anything to do with her snoopy next-door neighbor or the insane urge that had come over her the night before to kiss that smirk right off his face.
"Anyway, it was very professionally done," she said, hastily dragging her mind from those dangerous waters. "I was thinking maybe some of the guests might enjoy an outing into town one of these nights. You could probably get a good rate on tickets for a large group."
"Good idea. Maybe I'll try to set something up next week." With a long sigh, Jean settled into a chair and plucked one of the radishes from the tray, then popped it into her mouth.
It was so rare to see the Lost Creek owner—well, the lame duck owner, anyway—sit down for any length of time that Cassie set down her knife and studied her boss carefully.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
Jean shrugged. "Sure. Just fine."
"How are you feeling, really?"
The older woman was quiet for a moment and Cassie ached for the weary frustration flickering through those steely gray eyes. "I won't lie to you. Some days are better than others. Without this damned arthritis I'd feel half my age."
No matter what she might think about Zack Slater, she couldn't forget that Jean really didn't have a choice about selling the ranch to his company. She wasn't sure if he would be ruthless enough to make good on his threat to back out of the sale if she didn't stick it out for a few short weeks, but she couldn't take that chance.
"Just think." She summoned a smile for her friend. "In a few months you'll be in San Diego with your daughter and can take it easy just soaking in the ocean breezes."
A spasm of worry tightened the older woman's features. "I suppose. If everything goes through with Maverick and young Slater."
"Has there been a problem?" Cassie asked carefully.
"Don't know. He's a man who plays his cards pretty close to his chest. Hard to know what he's thinking."
Wasn't that the truth? There was a time she thought she knew him as well as she knew herself. She could see now exactly how foolish and young she'd been. Age had taught her that people could be married for years and still keep a large chunk of their souls to themselves.
"You know," Jean went on pensively, "I couldn't figure out at first why he wanted the ranch, but the more I see him around the place, I think I'm beginning to see it."
Cassie hated the curiosity prowling through her. At the same time she couldn't quite manage to control it. "What have you figured out?"
"I don't think it's about money at all. I think he loves it here. I think maybe he feels he belongs."
Cassie chopped so hard she mangled the pretty little radish flower under her hands. Zack Slater would never belong. Not at the Lost Creek, not in Salt River, not in the entire Star Valley. He couldn't.
Jean was wrong. It had to be the money. He was a greedy opportunist who knew a good deal when he saw it. And if he could find a way to hurt her in the bargain, so much the better.
She opened her mouth to say so but shut it again. She had no call to hurt Jean's feelings. If the woman wanted to believe Zack's motives for buying the guest ranch were so pure, Cassie didn't have the heart—or the cruelty—to disillusion her.
Besides, after their agreement ended in just three more weeks, he would have no more hold on her than their shared past. What he did wouldn't concern her at all.
"Anyway, the reason I stopped by is to ask how you'd feel about going up with the cattle drive tomorrow. I was planning to go as camp cook but I'm just not sure I can manage it, the way I've been feeling the past two or three days."
The idea held instant appeal. She hadn't gone on an overnight ride into the mountains since the previous fall's roundup at the Diamond Harte. The thought of a night spent breathing clear, high-altitude air seemed exactly what she needed to make some order of her chaotic thoughts.
She could have Matt bring her favorite mare over from the ranch and her pack tent and camping supplies.
"What about the meals here while I'm gone?" she asked, warming quickly to the idea.
"Claire can cover for you. Most all the guests have signed up for the roundup, anyway. I know it's short notice, but it would really help me out."
"No problem." She was already running through possible menus in her head. "I can easily put together all the supplies this afternoon."
Since the roundup would leave before first light in the morning, she spent the rest of the afternoon planning the four meals she would need to fix, then carefully loading the necessary ingredients into large panniers to be carried by two packhorses.
While she worked, eager anticipation curled through her like black-eyed Susans on a fence, lifting their cheerful faces to the sun.
If nothing else, a trip into the mountains would help put some distance between her and Slater. And maybe a little physical distance would be all she needed to keep the blasted man from invading her thoughts every fifteen seconds.
Cassie stepped back and surveyed her handiwork in the pale early-morning light while the sturdy pack-horses nickered softly to each other and to the other mounts being saddled for the trip.
"Does the load look even to you?" she asked Marty Mitchell, one of the oldest of the Lost Creek wranglers. A horse that wasn't loaded right would tire too quickly on the climb into the mountains.
He spat a wad of chew on the ground. "Far as I can tell. You sure you remembered everythin'?"
"I think so." She did a quick mental inventory. She was probably forgetting something—she usually did on the Diamond Harte cattle drives, anyway—but she had double-checked her list as carefully as possible the night before.
"The dudes are rarin' to go." Marty spat another wad of chew to the ground. She followed his gaze and saw that Jean had been right the night before. While she'd been finishing with the packhorses, most of the Lost Creek guests had shown up and were being matched by one of the other wranglers with appropriate mounts for their riding skills.
"Those two are gonna be trouble," Marty said, pointed to a pair of towheaded twins, a boy and a girl a few years younger than Lucy and Dylan. The twins wore matching Western regalia—vests, chaps, and jaunty little red cowboy hats—and looked as if they were ready to come to blows over a pretty black-and-white speckled pinto pony.
As Cassie watched, ready to step in as peacemaker, the girl took matters into her own hands by shoving her foot into the stirrup of the pony they both obviously wanted, gripping the saddle pommel and mounting up before her brother had a chance to blink.
Cassie grinned.
"You would appreciate such a dirty trick," a low voice murmured in her ear. In an instant her blood turned to ice and then just as quickly to molten fire.
She whipped her head around, and dread clutched her stomach when she saw Slater leading one of the Lost Creek geldings, a big, muscular blood bay. Zack wore jeans, a denim jacket and a battered Stetson, and the horse he led was outfitted just like the others, with a bedroll, tent and all the supplies a person would need for an overnight stay in the mountains.
She found herself made speechless by the implications.
He couldn't be going on the cattle drive. Fate wouldn't be that cruel to send the two of them into the same circumstances that had brought them together in the first place a decade ago.
How could she possibly spend two days with him in the mountains? She couldn't. Her mind raced around i
n circles trying to figure out a way to escape the inevitable.
Even as she wildly examined her options, she knew she had no way to get out of it. She was trapped, just as surely as a wildcat treed by a pack of hounds. She had promised Jean she would do it and she couldn't back out now. Her assistant couldn't handle the trip on such short notice, and she had seen by the trembling exhaustion on her friend's face the day before that Jean simply wasn't up to it.
It was far too late in the game to find anyone else.
Had Jean known Slater planned to ride along? Or had he only decided to join the expedition when he found out she was going, as part of his general plan to torment her?
"What's the matter? You look surprised to see me."
Surprised was far too mild a word. Horrified fit much better. "Doesn't the owner and CEO of Maverick Enterprises have far more important things to do with his time than go with a bunch of greenhorns on a mock cattle drive?"
"I can't think of a one," he answered with a small smile and a funny look in those hazel eyes.
He held her gaze for just a moment longer than necessary, until heat soaked her cheeks and she had to look away. Her gaze landed on his mouth, and for one crazy instant she could remember nothing but their brief kiss the week before on her porch.
Not just that kiss, but a hundred others. Slow, drugging kisses that sent her blood churning through her veins. Quick ones that made her heart flutter like a trapped bird in her chest.
Once she had known that mouth as well as her own, had tasted every inch and savored every curve and hollow.
Her insides trembled in remembered heat. She closed her eyes, willing him to disappear. When she opened them, he was—to her everlasting regret—still standing beside her, reins held loosely in his hands and looking as gorgeous as ever.
"If you need some suggestions for what to do with yourself, I can come up with plenty," she snapped.
His grin only added to his looks, she was disgusted to admit. "I'm sure you could, sweetheart," he answered, then swung into the saddle with a power and grace that left her a little light-headed.
It was going to be a very long two days.
* * *
She tried her best to pretend Zack Slater didn't exist throughout most of the day.
It wasn't easy, especially since she and her string of packhorses brought up the rear of the haphazard group that stretched along the wide trail like worry beads.
From back here, she had an excellent rear view of him riding ahead of her. Not that she was paying the least bit of attention. She most certainly was not. But if she had been, she might have had a hard time not observing how the blasted man still sat in the saddle as if he had been born there, loose and easy and natural.
She didn't notice, though. Any more than she saw the way the bright summer sun gleamed off that tawny hair under his hat like August wheat or the way his smile flashed at something one of the Carlson twins said to him or the way her breath seemed to catch in her chest every time he turned around and speared her with a hot look from those murky gold-flecked eyes.
He didn't exist, she reminded herself. Instead of focusing on him, she tried to turn her attention to the thrill of a cattle drive—even a light version like this one, where there were almost more drivers than cattle.
The Lost Creek guests loved this, living out their own version of the movie City Slickers. Jean didn't keep a big herd at the Lost Creek, maybe one hundred and fifty head. Not like the Diamond Harte, with its herd four times that size.
Jean moved her Herefords only about twenty at a time. Half the summer was spent moving them up to higher ground, the other half bringing them back to the ranch in small groups so that guests throughout the season had the opportunity to participate in a cattle drive.
The formula seemed to work, to the exhilaration of all—except maybe the somewhat bewildered-looking cattle.
It was exciting, Cassie had to admit. Even though she had always participated in the Diamond Harte roundup on a much more massive scale, this was still fun—the bawling of the cattle, the creak of saddles and jangle of tack, the barking of the three low-slung cattle dogs who did most of the actual work.
What was there not to enjoy? They were on a wide trail—a Forest Service fire road, really—surrounded by spectacular scenery: fringy Douglas firs, white-trunked aspens with their pale-green leaves fluttering in the breeze, and wild carpets of wildflowers spreading out in every direction.
She breathed in the scent—of horse and sagebrush and mountains. It was a smell so evocative of summer she had to smile. Oh, she had missed this. She wasn't going to let Slater ruin her delight in something she had always loved.
She was so busy trying not to pay attention to him that she didn't notice that he'd pulled away from the rest of the group until he was coming toward her.
She stiffened in the saddle enough that Solidad grew fractious, both at Cassie's sudden tension on the reins and at the presence of the big bay Slater rode.
"Easy, girl," she murmured, but she wasn't sure if it was a message aimed more at herself or at her mare.
Now beside her, Zack gestured toward the ranch guests whooping and hollering and yippy-cay-aying. "Not quite like a Diamond Harte cattle drive, is it?"
She looked for derision in his eyes, in his voice. To her surprise, she found none, just genuine enjoyment. It reminded her of what Jean had said the day before about his motives for acquiring the ranch.
"It's what keeps people paying the big money to stay at the Lost Creek and all the other dude ranches like it. Traditions like this and the romance of the Old West."
"It's not hard to understand why the ranch is such a success. Who wouldn't enjoy this?"
How in the heck was she supposed to ignore him when he flashed that smile in her direction?
She tried not to acknowledge the heat sizzling through her or the way her legs suddenly trembled in the stirrups.
"I figured the kind of slick, high-dollar guests Maverick Enterprises is planning to bring in probably won't have time to bother with something as noisy and smelly as an old-fashioned cattle drive. What with all those facials and massages, right?"
She heard her words, snippy and childish, and wanted to yank them back, but they lay between them like the rocks strewn across the trail.
He tipped his Stetson back and speared her with a glittering look. "Is that what you think? That I'm going to turn the place into some kind of ritzy spa?"
"How should I know? It's not my business, anyway. A few more weeks and I'm gone."
That funny look appeared in his eyes again. He opened his mouth, but she had the feeling he changed his mind about whatever he was going to say and chose another topic instead.
"I like the Lost Creek just the way it is," he said after an awkward moment. "I wouldn't have decided to buy it otherwise. Once my company takes over, I don't expect we'll make many changes."
She pondered that surprising snippet of information while they rode abreast through the dust kicked up by the small herd a hundred yards ahead of them now.
She wanted to study him, to gauge his sincerity, but she wasn't exactly sure she trusted herself to spend too much time looking at him.
Riding so easily in the saddle in his battered Stetson and Western clothes, this man seemed to have appeared right out of her memories. It was too easy to forget old heartaches and pretend she was riding once more beside the lean, hungry cowboy she had loved so fiercely.
No. She wasn't going to think about that. Casting about for another topic of conversation, she remembered what Jean had said the day before. "What made you decide to buy the ranch?" she asked, before she'd really had time to think the question through.
He frowned as if disconcerted by the question. "What do you mean?"
"There are probably a dozen other guest ranches for sale across the West. Why the Lost Creek? Why come back to Star Valley after all this time?"
He was quiet for a moment, then tilted his head and studied her, his eyes as brig
ht as jade under the shade of his hat. "You haven't figured it out yet?"
She blinked at him, suddenly wary. "Figured what out?"
The power of his smile snatched the breath right out of her lungs. "I came back for you, Cassidy Jane."
Before she could absorb the sheer stunning force of his words, a confused dogie broke away from the main herd and headed into the sagebrush. Zack spurred the big bay and took off after it.
She watched him go, not sure whether she should be furious at his shocking admission.
Or scared to death.
* * *
Okay, he'd screwed up. Big-time.
At their campsite on the shore of a small mountain lake rimmed by sharp, white-capped peaks, Zack split his time between helping the Lost Creek wranglers as they set up camp and sneaking little looks at Cassie preparing the evening meal.
He knew he was staring at her but couldn't seem to help himself. She moved like water—graceful and smooth and fluid.
And every time she caught him looking at her, she flushed brighter than the red-hot embers of the campfire.
He had made a tactical error of major proportions. He never should have opened his big mouth about his true reasons for coming back. He should have just bided his time, let her get to know him again. See if, by some miracle, she might be able to trust him again.
Now she was jumpier than a grasshopper on a hot sidewalk.
He hadn't meant to tell her so bluntly, but the truth had just slipped out when she'd asked him why he returned to Star Valley.
Well, part of the truth, anyway.
How could he tell her he had never stopped loving her? How the memory of those few months he'd spent with her had been burned into his mind and had set the course for his entire life?
By the world's standards he was a successful man. He had money, he had power, he had influence. The dirty, white-trash kid in hand-me-downs had yanked himself up by the proverbial bootstraps and made something of himself.
Ten years ago he was nothing. Or that's what he felt like, anyway. Now when he walked into a room, people sat up and took notice.
But it wasn't enough. Nothing he did had ever seemed enough since he'd left Star Valley and Cassidy Harte.
CASSIDY HARTE AND THE COMEBACK KID Page 9
