A Groom For Gwen

by Jeanne Allan

  “If you’d bothered to visit him occasionally, you’d have known Bert was not the least bit senile,” Gwen said.

  “Yeah, maybe I should have visited more. That would have put quite a crimp in your plans to take him for all he was worth, wouldn’t it?”

  “What do you want, Gordon?” Gwen asked coldly.

  “What I’ve always wanted. What’s due me. You know you’re in over your head here. You’ll lose the place to the bank in a year or two. Sell to me now and I’ll give you enough to get you and the kid back to Denver. Uncle Bert bragged what a great CPA you are. You won’t have no trouble finding another job. We can go in the house right now and write out the paperwork.”

  “You know as well as I do the estate isn’t settled until it’s gone through probate. Even if I wanted to sell to you, which I don’t, I couldn’t.” Gwen gave Gordon a fixed smile. “Thank you for stopping by to see how I’m doing. Now, if that’s all, I have work to do.”

  Gordon’s eyes narrowed to black slits. “You think you’ve won, Ms. Ashton, but I ain’t through yet. By rights, this place belongs to me.” Turning, he stomped off around the barn.

  Gwen followed him to make sure he got in his car and drove away. Jake trailed behind her. Passing the comer of the barn, she saw the front of the house where Crissie and Mack sat on the porch steps. Crissie waved shyly to Gordon. Gwen couldn’t hear the man’s response, but Crissie’s smile vanished, and Mack stood up and walked stiff-legged down the steps. Even from a distance, Gwen could see the raised hair on the back of the dog’s neck. Gwen’s heart skipped a beat, and she broke into a lope. Swearing fluently, Jake passed her. Gordon practically ran the last few steps to his dark green pickup and yanked open the door.

  The crisis, if one had existed other than in Gwen’s mind, was averted. She slowed. Gordon kicked the side of the oncoming dog, and Mack yelped in pain. Crissie screamed and scrambled down the steps toward the dog. Terrified the injured dog would bite Crissie, Gwen ran toward her niece, cursing legs which refused to obey her demand for speed.

  Gordon jumped in the truck, started it, backed up, then moved forward. Heading straight for the dog. And Crissie. Surely he’d see Crissie and stop. Gwen screamed at him and pumped her legs harder. She couldn’t get there in time. Crissie stood frozen, a look of horror on her face as she saw the truck bearing down on her. Gwen screamed at Gordon again. Jake dashed in front of the pickup, scooped up Crissie, shoved the dog out of the truck’s path, and jumped aside. Gordon honked his horn, made an obscene gesture at Gwen, fishtailed the pickup through a U-turn and tore out of the yard, an angry column of dust in his wake.

  Forcing her trembling legs forward, Gwen made it to the porch before she collapsed.

  “He’s a bad man. He hurt Mack.”

  “Are you okay?” Gwen grabbed Crissie and hugged her tightly.

  The little girl wiggled free. “I have to see Mack. He’s hurt.”

  “Mack’s okay.” Jake dropped to the porch steps beside Gwen. “Just a little bruise where the bad man kicked him, but I don’t think anything’s broken. Tom can look him over when he gets back.”

  Crissie stooped and kissed Mack’s side, then straightened to say, “I don’t like the bad man.”

  “Neither do I, pardner, neither do I.”

  Gwen clenched her knees, fighting for control. “He wouldn’t have stopped. Maybe he didn’t see her or understand what I was yelling, I don’t know. But if it hadn’t been for you...” Her fingernails dug into her kneecaps. A little over a year ago Dan and Monica had died a block from Gwen’s Denver apartment. The Mashing lights, shouting voices, and the smell of burned rubber haunted her dreams.

  Crissie returned to climb onto Gwen’s lap. “Are you hurt?”

  Clutching the child thankfully, Gwen shoved aside the agonizing memories. The living needed her now. Crissie needed reassurance. “No, sweetie, I’m okay.” She paused, her voice caught in her throat.

  “You’re crying.” Crissie patted Gwen’s wet cheek. “Don’t cry. I kiss you well.”

  Gwen took a deep breath and inhaled the comforting scents of orange juice and baby shampoo. “I’m not crying. Just winded from running. I’ll be okay as soon as I catch my breath.” She squeezed the child on her lap. If she let go of Crissie, her niece might fly apart into a million pieces. Or she would. “He could have hit her,” Gwen said numbly. “How could he not see her?”

  “Whatever made Bert think you could handle the ranch?” Jake asked in disgust, leaning back on his elbows. “Do you go to pieces at every little thing? Maybe you figure I’ll feel sorry for you and excuse you from work today. I won’t.”

  Gwen slowly raised her head to stare at him in disbelief. “Are you really that cruel and hard?”

  “Look at it this way, honey. It’s me if you want to keep the ranch, or him if you don’t.” His cool gaze flaunted a challenge.

  After a moment, Gwen carefully stood up and set Crissie on the ground. Thankfully her gelatinous bones didn’t disgrace her. She looked Jake right in the eye. “I want one thing perfectly understood, Mr. Stoner. My bones may have turned to pudding at what just happened, but I am not a quitter. I’ll never be the rancher Bert was, and okay, I’ll never know as much about cows and stuff as you and Tom do, but I’m going to make it here. This is Crissie’s and my home, and damn it, we’re going to stay here.”

  “That’s a bad word. You said a bad word.”

  Jake reached down and picked up Crissie. “You know what I think, pardner? If I kiss Gwen every time she says a bad word, I’ll bet she’ll quit saying them. What do you think?”

  “Yes.” Crissie clapped her hands together. “Kiss Gwen.”

  Gwen glared at Jake. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Honey, you got six seconds to get your bohind down to that corral or I’ll do more than kiss you.”

  Halfway to the corral, Gwen whirled around to glare at him. “All right. What is a bohind?”

  Jake broke into laughter. “Let’s put it this way, honey,” he said between chuckles, “I’ve been following yours all the way down from the house, and you’ve got a mighty cute one.”

  Sniffing disdainfully, Gwen stuck her nose in the air and sailed down to the corral. Behind her she heard Crissie prattling to Jake, whose shoulders she rode. What they were going to do with the child while they rode horses, Gwen couldn’t imagine.

  Not that Jake had ever said anything about actually getting on a horse and riding. Gwen sank down onto the old wooden bench on the porch, leaned against the house, and stifled a groan. Hefting saddles on and off a horse one or two million times used muscles CPAs weren’t often called upon to use. Her arms were undoubtedly twice as long as they’d been when she got up this morning. At least Crissie had enjoyed the show from her perch on the top corral railing next to Jake’s broad shoulders. Crissie sitting so far above the ground should have made Gwen nervous, but oddly enough, it hadn’t.

  Maybe it was like the Chinese. Hadn’t she read they believed if you saved someone’s life, you were obligated to take care of that person forever? Or was it the other way around? Maybe Crissie was supposed to take care of Jake. Gwen managed a halfhearted smile. Crissie wouldn’t mind that. The child had the worst case of hero worship Gwen had ever seen. Crissie had monopolized Jake at dinner, and talked of nothing else to her aunt during her bath and bedtime preparations. She’d even interrupted her bedtime story to chatter about Jake.

  Easy for Crissie to adore him. He hadn’t made her stand in that stupid corral not once, but twice today, for hours on end, well, a long time, learning how to get a horse to come to her, how to bridle and saddle him. She’d patted Vegas and pushed him and picked up his feet.... “Why would you call a part on a horse a frog?” she asked the dark night.

  “When you’re hoarse, why do you say you’ve got a frog in your throat?” Jake pushed open the screen door and came outside. He lowered himself to the bench beside her.

  She thought he’d returned to his quarters. “I wouldn’t say
anything so stupid.” Gwen slid as far from him as she could and still remain on the bench. She had to put some chairs on the porch. In the meantime, just because he was obnoxious and bossy and stubborn and a total pain in the neck didn’t mean they couldn’t share the bench. She could act like an adult. Maybe he’d learn something. “And if I did, I wouldn’t say it to you, because I’m not talking to you.”

  “That’s progress. At least you aren’t firing me again.”

  “I can’t fire you, and you know it.”

  “Sure I know it. I’ve been telling you that all along.”

  “Whatever you’ve been ranting and raving about has nothing to do with anything. After you saved Crissie from what could have been a horrible...” Gwen pressed her lips tightly together for a minute. “Anyway, after this morning, I’m obligated to you. I should have thanked you then, but, well, I didn’t, but I’m eternally grateful to you. I never could have reached Crissie in time.”

  “About this morning.” Jake clasped his hands around a knee and leaned back. “I owe you an apology.”

  “Yes, you do. You knew very well I wanted to go for a ride. Bert never made me do all that stuff. He let me get right on Susie and we rode all over the ranch.”

  “You weren’t riding,” Jake said in disgust.

  “I most certainly was. Ask Doris.”

  “You were sitting on top of Susie. Just like you’re sitting on this bench. Susie did what she wanted, and all you did was hang on. You were sight-seeing. Bert didn’t mount you on one of his other horses, because he didn’t want an inexperienced rider like you confusing them. A horse has to trust his rider. Susie trusted Bert. You were no different than a sack of flour to her.”

  “Thank you very much,” Gwen said sarcastically.

  “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got a long way to go before you can think like your horse. You have to know why he’s twitching his ear, whipping his tail, and what he’s thinking when he sees something on the trail in front of him. Every time he moves a muscle I want you to notice and anticipate what he’s going to do. Horses aren’t people or dogs or cats. They’re horses and they think like horses.”

  “Thank you for the fascinating zoology lesson. I came out here to enjoy a little solitude, and since that appears to be impossible, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll go in.”

  “No, I won’t excuse you.”

  “It was a rhetorical question which didn’t require an answer,” Gwen snapped.

  “I’ll leave as soon as I say my piece.”

  Gwen had scooted to the extreme end of the bench, and when Jake stood, removing his balancing weight from the other end, his end of the bench shot up. Gwen’s end shot down, dumping her to the floor. She landed hard. The bench landed on top of her.

  “Are you okay?” If Jake was concerned, he hid it well. He reached down to lift the bench off Gwen.

  She’d had about all she wanted from this irritating, insufferable, obnoxious cowboy. She certainly didn’t need his help. Jerking the bench away from him, she fended it in front on her like a shield. Or a weapon. “Go away. And quit laughing. You did that on purpose.”

  “I’m not laughing,” he said in an amused voice. “Pull in your horns, honey.”

  “I’ll give you horns.” She jabbed the bench, legs first, at him.

  Jake laughed and dodged out of the way. “You’re a rip-snorting terror, aren’t you?”

  In answer, Gwen rammed a bench leg into his thigh.

  “Ouch, damn it. Give that to me before you hurt yourself.”

  Gwen wrapped her arms around the wooden bench, hanging on to it with all her strength. “I don’t take orders from you.”

  “You are the stubbornest woman.” Jake pulled at the bench. “No wonder you’re not hitched.”

  “Of all the sexist remarks.” So mad she hardly knew what she was doing, Gwen let go of the bench.

  At the same time, Jake gave a determined yank. Her lack of resistance caught him by surprise, and he took a hasty step backward on the narrow porch. His hindmost foot found nothing but air. He pitched backward off the low porch, the bench securely in his grip.

  Gwen’s brief moment of satisfaction fled in the face of total silence from beyond the porch. “Are you okay?” A slight breeze stirred a clump of tall grass. “Jake?” From inside the house came the faint sounds of the television program Doris watched. “Jake, quit playing games and answer me.”

  Nothing.

  Rolling over on her hands and knees, Gwen crawled quickly to the edge of the porch. Jake lay stretched out in the shadows, the bench covering his head. The heavy wooden bench must have knocked him unconscious. She leaped to the ground, carefully moved the bench, and knelt at Jake’s side. “Jake,” she said urgently. “Talk to me.” Running her fingers over his face, she leaned down to see if she could hear him breathing.

  Steel rods clamped over her hands, squeezing her fingers tightly together. “What do you want me to talk about? That you’re crazy?” Jake asked with soft menace. “Or that you’re driving me crazy?” Releasing her hands, he cradled her face with his strong, work-roughened hands. “Maybe there’s a better way of explaining things to you than talking.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  GWEN could have broken free. Could have stood up and walked away. Could have informed him she didn’t kiss employees. She could have. She didn’t. Instead her knees went limp, and she found herself sprawled on top of Jake. She propped her elbows on his chest. Putting space between them. “If you’re thinking about kissing me, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “You’re right.” He smoothed the hair back from her face.

  “You work for me. You shouldn’t kiss me.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t.” He laughed softly. “But I sure as hell am going to.” He ran a thumb along one of her cheekbones.

  “I’m your boss.” His body should feel hard and lumpy, uncomfortable, beneath her. Not supportive. Not comforting. Her body shouldn’t melt into his. “What if I ordered you not to kiss me?”

  “I’d be very disappointed.” He lightly traced the out line of her mouth. “Are you going to order me not to kiss you, boss?”

  Enough light penetrated the darkness to allow her to see the gleam of his teeth. She knew he smiled. “It would be silly of me to want to kiss you. I don’t know you. I don’t even know if you’re married.”

  “I’m not.” He slipped one hand around to her back. Warm fingers played with her spine. “Never have been.”

  His hand trailed down her backbone, moving over to cup her hip. Heat spread through her body. “Me neither.” What an idiotic thing to say. He hadn’t asked.

  “I know.” He toyed with a loose strand of hair which fell forward over her shoulder. “That’s why I came out to apologize. While you were up putting pardner to bed, I helped Doris clean up and she told me about your brother and his wife. Doris said you were holding your brother’s hand when he died, still trapped in their car. I understand now why Gordon’s playing games this morning upset you.”

  Gwen clenched her teeth together. She wouldn’t cry. “Bert must have told Doris. He talked too much.”

  “Doris said he worried about you.” Jake hesitated. “I lost a brother, but at least I didn’t see him die.” Jake tried not to think about how Luther must have died. Most outlaws’ lives ended violently.

  “I’m sorry. His death still must have hurt.”

  Jake dislodged her elbows, pulling her down to rest her head on his chest. “It was a long time ago.” He rubbed the palm of one hand up and down her spine. “I want to apologize for what I said this morning. If I were a woman, I might have cried, too.”

  Indignantly, Gwen lifted her head. “What’s that supposed to mean? Only weak little women cry? Men are too strong?”

  Jake pushed her head back down. “Maybe men don’t know how to cry.”

  “Crying has nothing to do with weakness,” Gwen muttered against his shirt. His chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. A woodsy soap scent clung
to him. He’d showered before dinner.

  Jake wrapped his other arm around her. “There are different kinds of strength. When it comes to fortitude, I’ve known women I’d put up against any man.”

  Jealousy tweaked at Gwen. “I can’t help I’m only five foot five and skinny.”

  He chuckled. “No man’s going to look at a well-formed woman like you and call her skinny.”

  As compliments went, it was different. Funny how the words made Gwen want to purr and stretch against him like a cat. She smiled at nothing. Comparing herself to an animal must come from dwelling in the country. “I ought to get up.”

  “Yup.” He slid both hands down to cup her bottom. “You ought to.”

  “And you shouldn’t be holding my—uh...”

  “Bohind?” he suggested softly.

  She giggled. “I don’t believe there’s any such word.”

  “It’s an old Texas word. And yours is an almighty soft bohind.”

  Gwen closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Every soft, drawled word sent pleasure percolating through her body. As long as she kept talking, she wouldn’t have to get up. “I suppose that’s another way of saying I’m a neophyte horseback rider. That if I knew how to ride, I’d have a hard, calloused bottom.”

  His laugh stirred the hair atop her head. “Honey, if I thought riding would put callouses on this bohind—” he squeezed gently “—I’d never let you sit on another horse.”

  She thought about and discarded telling him she was the one who decided whether or not she rode. Tomorrow would be soon enough to wade into that battle again. Right now she lacked the will to fight. Maybe because his steady breathing had relaxed her to the point of mindlessness. Or maybe because she liked the feel of him beneath her. Tomorrow she’d face reality. Tonight, a gentle breeze hummed in her ears, stars twinkled from above, and one tall, dark, handsome cowboy murmured silly nothings to her. The stuff chemistry was made of. A lonesome woman and the only man on the horizon. Unless one counted Tom. Gwen swallowed a giggle.