Once Upon a Cowboy

by Day Leclaire

  The huge steer joined her at the rail, blowing warm air into her cupped hand. He nudged her until she gave in and scratched his heavily muscled neck. Beneath the light of a nearly full moon, she made out Gabby and Holt resetting the rails Buttercup had knocked down, their quiet words and muted grunts drifting to her through the still night air.

  She glanced up, amazed by the clarity and brilliance of the heavens. Despite the wash of moonlight, a multitude of stars burned with almost savage radiance, a proper match for the untamed land they crowned. How she loved this place. This life. It fit. Richmond and her former job and friends, in fact everything up until now, seemed like a far distant memory, unreal and undesirable. She belonged here. This land nourished her soul and fulfilled her in a way she instinctively knew to be right and true.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?"

  She smiled, not in the least surprised by Holt's silent appearance. He, too, belonged. He, too, felt natural and at home. Without him, the dream would be incomplete. "It surely is," she agreed softly. "It's all I hoped it would be. All I ever wanted."

  "Enjoy it while you can." His words held a warning. A warning she didn't care to hear. Not now. Not tonight. Not when all about her lay perfection.

  "Don't," she whispered. "Don't spoil it."

  "It won't last, Tex. Sooner or later you'll have to face that fact."

  She bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "No!"

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and tipped her backward into his arms. She felt his whipcord strength and power, felt the heat of his body envelop her. He set her on her feet, tucked tight within his hold, pressing her into the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen. Thigh rode thigh. Hips locked. Curves keyed into angles, a perfect joining.

  His breath stirred the curls resting along her cheek. "This isn't real," he murmured in her ear. "It's the illusion you love, not this life."

  "No," she denied fervently. "You're wrong."

  He sighed, sending an uncontrollable shiver down the length of her spine. "You're like a young buck, Tex, in love with a fancy lady. You first see her in the evening, when she's at her best, the candlelight and makeup hiding the flaws. And you fall in love with a passion you've never experienced before. But then morning comes and the makeup is washed from her face and sunlight shines through the window, and you see the truth behind the illusion. It's raw and cold and lonely."

  "I don't understand. If you have something to say, say it straight."

  He gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. The moonlight sculpted his face in hard, remote crags and valleys, and his eyes gleamed with the cold glitter of polished jet. "Ranch life is like that fancy lady." He spoke with a ruthless passion. "You're seeing us at our best, with the grass green and lush and the sun warm against your face. And life is full and rich and rewarding. It isn't always like that."

  "I know."

  "You don't know." His retort held a cutting sharpness. "You haven't seen the ranch in the dead of winter when the snow is so deep it's worth your life to leave the safety of the house. Still, you leave because there's livestock counting on you for survival. And the cold, Tex. The cold is so intense it worms into the very marrow of your bones and stays, gnawing at you until you're sick with cabin fever."

  "I wouldn't mind. I'd cope. I know I would."

  He shook his head. "Maybe the first year you would. But what about the year after and the one after that? What about when you realize you're trapped and there's nowhere to go, no one to talk to?"

  "There'd be you."

  The words hung between them. She'd answered without thinking, and yet she'd spoken the truth. A truth she hadn't been aware of until that very minute. A fierce passion flared in his eyes. His hands tightened on her shoulders and he yanked her closer.

  "You're a fool. And I'm an even bigger fool," he muttered. And he kissed her.

  He kissed her with a rough passion unlike anything that had gone before. She felt his anger, fierce and unrelenting. And she felt his desolation and pain. She could sense a terrible void in this man. An emptiness that would take an endless supply of love to fill and all the years in a lifetime. She gave him all the love she had, and then gave some more.

  Within seconds he broke free, stepping away, his expression closed to her, his body rigid, rejecting all she'd offered.

  "Holt?"

  "You're riding for a fall, Tex," he informed her in a clipped voice. "If you were smart, you'd get off this particular horse and head home before you break something."

  "It's too late for that, I'm afraid," she whispered.

  His hands clenched. "So be it. But don't say I didn't warn you." With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away.

  Cami stared at his retreating back until the darkness swallowed him. Oh, it was too late all right. Much too late. She'd already taken that fall. And what she'd broken was her heart.

  * * *

  Holt waited until he heard the crunch of Cami's boots striking out for camp before stepping from the darkness and returning to the holding pen. He leaned against the rail and stared at the cattle, wishing for the first time that he smoked. Better yet, he wished he'd had the foresight to tuck away a flask of something potent and numbing.

  Think of the ranch. Think of the men who have fought to carve a place in this country and who have died protecting it. Think of the land. Winston land. My land.

  Instead he thought of hair as black as a raven's wing, tumbling in silky ringlets around a face that occupied every moment of his day... and haunted every moment of his nights. He thought of kissing each freckle decorating her pert little nose, and of finding less obvious freckles to kiss. He thought of brilliant blue eyes darkening to navy with the strength of her passion.

  And he thought of long winter nights and how they could be spent... with the right woman.

  His fist slammed into the fence post, the pain bringing with it a measure of reason and calm. He couldn't afford the risk, anymore than he could afford to make another mistake. One more like the last and he'd lose everything. He had to keep his focus on his top priority. His ranch. He sure as hell couldn't risk a distraction like Cami Greenbush, no matter how badly parts south of the border disagreed with that assessment.

  He found the decision an easy one. Too bad if it left him with an almost unbearable ache. Aches could be eased. Eventually. They just couldn't be eased by city slickers. There were plenty of women raised on ranches who knew the score. He'd have to find one. He'd have to forget about black hair and dimples and freckles.

  He grimaced. Although forgetting those freckles might just about kill him.

  * * *

  The next day Cami barely found time to think, let alone brood over Holt's remarks. Work began at daybreak with each wrangler teamed with a couple of guests. The different areas around camp were divided among the groups, and the mountains, brush, and gullies swept thoroughly for cattle. To her surprise, she enjoyed herself, relaxing and joking with the guests and taking bets to see who could round up the most longhorns.

  "'Fraid I have a bit of bad news," Holt informed them over lunch. "We have a storm on the way. Which means the sooner we've collected and penned the herd, the happier we'll all be. I'd appreciate it if you'd follow the wranglers' directions to the letter. That way we can get the job done as quick as possible and beat that rain."

  His announcement set the tone and they didn't waste any time after that. The guests and wranglers worked fast, scouring the surrounding countryside. The afternoon winged by, successful and exhausting. At long last, a satisfied if weary band brought in the final reluctant longhorn.

  Over dinner, Cami watched with concern while clouds filled the sky with the heavy threat of rain. The instant they'd scraped the last bean from the last tin plate, the heavens opened.

  "Haul tail inside," Gabby shouted, clanging a bell attached to the wall of the cabin. "Frank's got a nice little fire goin' in the hearth and a whole bag of marshmallows just waitin' to be toasted."

  Everyone scrambled to
collect plates and cups. Laughing at the mad dash, Cami and Charlotte darted beneath the covered porch and stared at the downpour.

  "I guess you won't be sleeping under the stars tonight," Charlotte said.

  Cami nodded, fighting a stab of regret. "Doesn't look like it."

  "I think you should know something." Hesitating only a moment, Charlotte took a quick breath and rushed on. "I'm actually having a good time. I know it's sort of funny after the fuss I kicked up about your working here and the danger and everything." Her gaze grew distant, as if filled with bittersweet memories. "I guess I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed ranch life."

  Cami threw an arm around her mother's shoulders and gave her an understanding hug. "You didn't forget, Momma," she corrected gently.

  Charlotte stiffened, releasing a ragged laugh. "You're right. I didn't forget. I put it from my mind. I didn't want to remember, because some of those memories caused so much pain."

  "I know," Cami said, compassion welling up inside. "And I understand. You still planning to stay the rest of your two weeks?"

  "I'm staying," her mother confirmed.

  "And then?"

  "And then I guess I learn to let you live your own life." She laughed again, a lighter, freer laugh. "It won't be easy and I don't promise not to interfere every once in a while. But I'll do my best."

  Cami grinned. "I love you, Momma."

  Her mother grinned back. "I love you, too, Camellia."

  The door opened behind them and Frank appeared. "Come in and join the sing along, Charlie," he suggested, drawing Charlotte off. "You've got the prettiest voice here. It would be a darned shame to let it go to waste."

  She glanced over her shoulder, a quick bonding mother/daughter sort of look, before linking arms with Frank. "Why, thank you. Don't mind if I do."

  They entered the cabin, leaving Cami alone with her thoughts. Her mother had finally found a small portion of happiness and peace of mind. She sighed. If only she could find a similar peace, one she could share with Holt. She gazed out at the rain falling in a steady gray sheet.

  Her mouth curved in a wistful smile. Give it up. No sense in wishing for the impossible. Some things were never meant to be. She turned toward the light and laughter. Opening the door to the cabin, she abandoned the chilly solitude of hopeless wishing for the certainty of warmth and companionship.

  * * *

  Holt stirred from his stance at the far end of the porch, fighting the urge to catch Cami before she disappeared inside. He wanted to run with her into the drenched night and find a private spot where they could be alone, where he could indulge their passion and sate the craving gnawing at his gut.

  His mouth curved in a self-deprecatory smile. Give it up. No sense in wishing for the impossible. Some things were never meant to be. He turned from the light and laughter. Stepping from the porch, he abandoned the possibility of warmth and companionship for the chilly solitude of a purging rain.

  * * *

  Cami awoke abruptly and rolled over in her bunk bed, not quite sure what had disturbed her sleep. The sound repeated, a hammering outside the cabin that brought her to full and startled consciousness. It didn't come from the pounding of rain on the tin roof, although she could hear that, too. Nor did it come from a person pounding on the door. No, this was a loud, insistent, repetitive banging.

  Moooo.

  With a groan, she buried her face in the pillow. She'd know that moo anywhere. Buttercup. She jumped to her feet, dressing as quickly and quietly as she could so she wouldn't disturb the other women, and ran from the room. She slammed into Holt.

  "You heard him, too?" he asked. At her nod, he muttered, "Damned animal."

  Together they crossed to the front door and flung it open. Buttercup stood on the porch blinking at them. He took one look at Cami, released a desperate bellow and tried to push his way into the cabin. Holt hurled himself against the steer, throwing every ounce of weight into a vain attempt to stop the critter from gaining entrance, rapidly yielding ground to the determined longhorn.

  "Haul butt outside, Tex." He shouted over his shoulder, "Frank, Gabby, get out here. Fast!"

  Cami slipped past, calling to the lovesick steer. An instant later the two men showed up, Gabby in bright red long johns. "What's Buttercup doin' in our cabin?" he demanded.

  "How the hell should I know? Probably busted out of the holding pen again. Tex! Get him off the porch before he annihilates the place."

  "If he broke loose—" Frank began.

  "—then the other longhorns will follow suit and head for the hills," Holt confirmed.

  Gabby slapped on his hat. "Let's go get us some cows."

  "Why tonight?" Cami called. "It's so dark and rainy, we'll never find them."

  Holt spared her a brief glance. "We're out of time. If we don't get them now, there isn't going to be a cattle drive through town tomorrow. This rain will quit soon, and there's a full moon tonight. Once the clouds pass we'll see just fine." He yanked at the brim of his Stetson. "I hope."

  "I'll gather my boys and head west as far as Blackman's Ridge and south to Deadman's Gulch," Frank said. "You want to cover the east ridge, Gabby?"

  "Soon as I find my britches."

  "Tex and I'll fix the holding pen and get Buttercup settled," Holt decided. "Once we're done, we'll ride north. Meet here by daybreak and we'll see how we stand." With that, they scattered.

  Cami quickly discovered that repairing a holding pen in the pouring rain was wet and muddy work and even less of a pleasure than she'd expected it would be. By the time they'd finished, they were both filthy. "What do we do about Buttercup?" she asked in concern. "If we put him back in the pen, he'll only bust loose again."

  Holt dropped the last rail in place and wiped his brow with a mud encrusted sleeve. "His little infatuation hasn't left me much choice. We'll have to snub him." He caught her sudden frown. "It won't hurt," he reassured. "We'll tie him head on to a tree, is all. And it won't be for long."

  Just as they got Buttercup settled, the rain slackened and a bright, full moon appeared from behind the dissipating clouds. They saddled their horses and started north, fanning out but staying within shouting distance. As the hours wore on and they didn't find a single cow, Cami grew more and more discouraged.

  Breaching a steep ridge, she came across Holt. He sat on Loco, unmoving, staring up at the night sky. She reined in her horse, reluctant to approach, yet drawn by the bleakness of his expression, by the urge to comfort.

  "Tex?" He spoke without turning around.

  "It's me, all right. How'd you know I wasn't a cow?"

  "I just knew." He turned and to her amazement, a smile eased the hard lines of his face. "You're filthy."

  She grinned back at him. "I'm filthy? Check a mirror, buckaroo. You look like a mud slick with eyeballs."

  "A mud slick with eyeballs. Great." He hesitated, apparently fighting some inner quandary. She knew the moment he came to a decision. He stiffened his spine and glanced at her, his gaze resolute. "I have a solution, if you're game."

  It didn't take much thought. "I'm game."

  "Come on. There aren't any cows to be found here."

  They rode in silence through the woods, the moon lighting their path. Cami didn't speak, afraid she'd break the mood. And it was a good mood, companionable, comfortable, relaxed. They angled to the northeast and plunged into a dense stand of pines. Shrubs snagged her jeans and made the going difficult.

  "Not much further," he said, urging Loco through the thick brush.

  Over a final hill, they emerged from the woods into a clearing and Cami stared in wonder. Trees and bushes circled the hidden glade forming a seemingly unbroken hedge. Thick green grass began where the woods ended, moss-covered rocks and clumps of ferns dotting the landscape. And smack dab in the center sat a pool, steam rising from the center.

  Cami stared in wonder. "What? How?"

  "Hot springs. They're all through the Rockies. I found this one a number of years back and kept its lo
cation to myself." He glanced her way, his expression obscured by shadows. "Until now."

  She caught her breath, not mistaking his meaning. A fierce wave of heat swept through her. "Holt..."

  He swung off Loco and opened one of his saddlebags, palming something he retrieved from inside. "Care to join me?"

  "Yes."

  "Then climb on down."

  "Don't mind if I do," she said gruffly and dismounted.

  Wisps of steam rose from the water, creeping across the surrounding terrain and clinging to the foliage with ghostly fingers. Holt sat on a large rock at one end of the pool and tugged off his boots, tossing them aside.

  "It's the best hot bath you'll ever have. And there's the added advantage of rinsing off some of this mud."

  She followed his example and shed her boots. Feeling awkward, she lingered by the pool. Holt showed no such hesitancy. Clamping his hat to his head, he dropped into the water.

  "Is it very hot?" she asked.

  "Nope. Just right. A few of the springs I've found will boil the skin clean off your bones. This one's a shade warmer than bathwater. Hot enough to ease an achy muscle, but not so hot you end up like a lobster."

  "Sounds nice." She bit down on her lip, peering across the steaming water at him.

  "It feels nice, too." His voice had deepened, turning rough and raspy. He looked directly at her, holding her with a clear, compelling stare. "Come here."

  Instinct forced her to pause, alert to the predatory nature of his command, aware he'd become the hunter, she the prey. But an irresistible allure drew her, compelled her to submit to his demand, to yield to his power and strength. Without a word, she slid into the water.

  Delicious heat enveloped her and her eyelids fell shut. She sighed, feeling each muscle relax, the tension melting away as though it had never been. A series of ripples lapped across her shoulders and she opened her eyes, snared by the intensity of Holt's gaze. He drifted nearer, crowding her, corralling her, closing off any chance of escape. Not that she wanted to escape.