Welcome to Paradise

by Rosalind James

  “The other guys fishing?” she asked now.

  “Yep. I said I’d take care of the evening chores. Virtue’s more than its own reward, in this case. Because now I get to talk to you. Here.” He got up and grabbed an empty feed bucket. “Come sit by me.”

  “Can I try milking?” she asked, settling herself on the stool, Bessie turning around to give her a curious look.

  “Sure, if you want to,” he said with a laugh, upturning his bucket and sitting next to her. “Got a burning desire?”

  “I do. I’m out here, after all. I might as well learn. I’ve only done it once, with Alma. Come on,” she said, looking up at him with a reckless smile, “teach me something new.”

  He looked down at her, arrested. “What are we talking about here?” he asked slowly.

  “I’m not sure,” she confessed. The freedom of it was heady. Could she really just ask for what she wanted? Was it that simple? “For right now, since we’re sitting here in the manure . . . Teach me to milk.”

  She was clumsy at first, but became more confident after a few minutes, some quiet words of instruction. Gabe’s hands over hers, showing her how to draw the milk out more efficiently, didn’t hurt either.

  “It’s not so bad,” she said with pleasure, as the creamy yellow milk squirted freely into the bucket.

  Gabe laughed. “That’s because Bessie’s a little bit of a slut, like Kevin says. She doesn’t quite perform for me the way she does for Kevin, but you put your hands on her, she lets her milk right down.”

  “Who knew he’d have such a touch with women?” she asked. “Women of the bovine persuasion, anyway.”

  She gave up after fifteen minutes, her hands cramping from the unfamiliar activity, but lingered with him while he finished.

  “Well,” she said, getting up reluctantly as he stood with the heavy pail, moving it carefully away from Bessie’s careless hooves, “I’d better get back and help Zara.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll walk up with you, get this milk into the separator, then come back and do the rest of the chores before I go have my own bath. You aren’t going to want to sit at the dinner table with somebody who smells as bad as I do right now.”

  “I always want to sit with you,” she said, latching the gate behind the two of them. “No matter what. Even,” she began to laugh, “next to a cow.”

  “I’ll make a deal with Kevin, then,” he said, smiling down at her. “Take on the evening milking from now on, get you to myself for a few minutes. And I’ll make sure,” he added, “that I get the stint in the garden with you tomorrow.”

  It wasn’t as easy as that, he found the next morning.

  “Why don’t you go get some shots of the plowing?” Mira asked Danny as he set up in the garden that she and Gabe were laboriously watering, one bucketful at a time. At least, Gabe thought, there was less to water now. The peas had finished producing, the lettuce had bolted, the radishes were done, and the spinach was full of aphids. Two-thirds of the big space, though, was still plenty to weed and keep watered in the hot sun of August.

  Danny shrugged. “Gordon’s out there with them,” he reminded her. “But unless somebody hurts himself, it’s not all that interesting.”

  “Zara’s making bread, and a pie,” she suggested hopefully.

  “Also much less interesting than this,” he assured her with an understanding smile. “Face it, Mira. You get the A team, because you’re the ones providing the story.”

  “Not if you don’t leave us alone, we’re not,” Gabe growled. “We’re not lab rats. We don’t reproduce under observation.”

  Mira gasped, then laughed. “That’s true. Pretty ironic, isn’t it, Danny? You want romance, you’ve got to give us some space to have it.”

  “I just follow orders,” he apologized. “And you’re not supposed to talk to me. Just . . . do your thing.”

  “Right,” Gabe muttered, turning back toward the creek with his bucket. “My thing.”

  Mira reached a hand out for his, pulled him back toward her. “So what is it you want, Danny?” she challenged him. “What are you hoping to find out here? This?”

  She tugged at the straps of her sunbonnet, pulled it off and tossed it aside. Then moved against Gabe, stood on tiptoes, and pulled his head down to hers.

  “Kiss me,” she muttered against his mouth.

  “Mira,” he protested, his hands coming around her all the same, as if they had a mind of their own. “He’s filming.”

  “So? Your patients going to be shocked that you kissed a girl? Come on, Dr. Gabe,” she taunted. “You said you wanted to do it. Kiss me.”

  “Oh, man,” he groaned. “I am so going to regret this.” Then threw caution to the winds, pulled her against him with one hand, shoved the other one into her hair, and kissed her, long and sweet. And despite the fact that they were standing in the dirt, and she was wearing that stupid corset, and Danny was ten feet away, it felt just absolutely fantastic.

  Mira dropped back to her heels, kept her hold on him as she turned toward Danny. “That enough for you?” she challenged the cameraman. “Or do you want us to have sex against the fence?” Her hand reached for Gabe’s midsection and began to inch downward. He grabbed her wrist and stared at her. What the hell?

  “Mira.” Danny was holding the camera away from him now. “Come on. Stop it. You know I’m just doing my job.”

  “Well, Gabe’s right,” she said. “We can’t have a romance if I can’t even kiss him. And I want to kiss him. So give us a chance!”

  “What do you want from me?” he asked in exasperation.

  “A few minutes of privacy, that’s all. Let me talk to him while he’s milking. Give us a couple minutes when we’re in the garden. Come on. Have a heart.”

  “You’re going to get me fired,” he grumbled.

  “No. What would get you fired is if you did film us having sex against the fence,” she corrected. “And I’m this close to going for it. Go film Zara making a pie, if you don’t want to see.”

  “I am not having sex with you on camera,” Gabe exploded as soon as Danny had taken himself off to the cabin. “Or out here in front of whoever walks by. What are you doing?”

  “Getting us a little privacy, like I said,” she said, her earlier confidence beginning to shrivel at the storminess of his expression. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “I know we’re supposed to ignore the cameras,” she went on, looking up at him pleadingly. “But I can’t. I can’t talk to you if they’re filming. Not the way I want to. Don’t you feel that way? Don’t you want to talk to me too? Don’t you want to . . . do more?”

  “You must know I do,” he said, still looking upset. “I can’t exactly hide how you make me feel. But warn me next time. I about had a heart attack. I thought you were actually going to ask me to have sex against the fence. And the worst thing about it?” He started to laugh. “I probably would’ve done it. That’s how crazy you’ve got me.”

  She began to giggle as relief filled her. The giggles increased until she was leaning against that same fence, laughing helplessly, her hands on her knees. “I can’t believe I said that,” she got out. “I didn’t know I was going to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I start by telling Scott what I really think, and it’s like . . . I can’t help myself.”

  He came to prop himself next to her, picked up her hand. “Never been bad before, huh?” he asked with a grin.

  She shook her head, smiled up at him. “Nope. I’ve been a good, good girl for twenty-nine long years. Never made waves, not a single solitary one. But it’s starting to look like those days are over. So look out, world.”

  A Way With Animals

  That had made things a little better, Gabe thought on Saturday as they walked along the path toward today’s challenges. They’d had a few minutes in the garden another day, the half-hour they’d spent milking every night. Not exactly the most romantic spot, though. He wasn’t far enough gone yet to grope a girl in the middle of the
cow pies.

  No, not nearly enough chances to be with her. A couple short walks, always trailed at a discreet distance, pulling her into the trees to kiss her. Lingering for a whispered goodnight, a brief embrace before climbing the ladders to their opposite lofts. And, whenever he could, holding her hand. It had felt so good when he’d first had the chance to do it, he thought, squeezing that same hand in his own now. How quickly, though, he’d wanted so much more.

  He sighed in frustration and tightened his hold on her as they approached their destination. They’d been given directions to a new spot this time, not the Clearing. Which had occasioned some conversation. But they’d just have to see when they got there. And if he didn’t get his mind into the game, he reminded himself, and win this challenge, he wasn’t going to have any more time with Mira at all, because she and Scott would be leaving.

  “Oh, no,” Gabe heard Zara say from behind him as Arcadia came into the challenge area from the opposite direction. Four contestants walking. And one, Hank, on crutches. “What happened? And why didn’t I know?”

  “Welcome,” Cliff said when both teams had arrived in front of him. “We’ve got you in a new spot today, as you’ve noticed, closer to Arcadia. And that’s partially because of Hank. Good news is, it’s just an ankle strain. We’re keeping him off it today though, Zara, just to be on the safe side.”

  Hank waggled a crutch at his wife with a grin. “Need to watch where I’m going better, that’s all,” he called out. “Stepped in a gopher hole and twisted my ankle. Good as new in a couple days.”

  “So that makes it pretty obvious who Arcadia will be sitting out today,” Cliff went on. “Because as you can see, the men are going to be plowing today.”

  Sure enough, two horses were standing with their handlers, each hitched to the smaller cultivator, Gabe saw with relief, not the big breaking plow. Small mercies, anyway.

  “This one is going to be man against man,” Cliff told them. “Three separate races, plowing down to the end of the field here, then turning around and coming back. Easy, right? You’ll be getting points for how straight your furrow is, and, of course, how fast you do it.”

  “Here are our pairs,” he went on. “We’ve selected them for you, just to make things easier. First up, Stanley against Alec. Second, Gabe against Calvin. And for our last leg,” he paused significantly, “Kevin against Scott.”

  Hank swung himself over to the bench, took a seat with the three women as the rest of the men gathered in their teams at their start lines.

  “Good thing we practiced,” Gabe muttered to Kevin and Stanley. “Let’s hope they haven’t.”

  But as Stanley moved down the field alongside Alec to start the event, it was clear that Arcadia, too, had done its share of plowing this past week. Stanley was giving it his usual strong effort, but Alec had clearly been getting into shape out here. Gabe watched in dismay as Alec made the turn ahead of Stanley, widened the gap on the return journey. At the same time, he found himself proud of his normally deskbound brother. No Dr. Pepper, no late nights now, and Alec was showing the results. He was leaner, harder. And, Gabe thought as his twin pushed with all his might for the finish, taking this completely seriously.

  Stanley didn’t let up despite Alec’s lead, and was blowing hard, sweat standing out in huge patches on his pale blue work shirt, by the time he reached the finish line. Gabe handed him a jar of water, clapped him on the back.

  “Good job,” he told the older man.

  Stanley shook his head tiredly, took a welcome gulp of the cold water. “Twenty years ago, I would’ve left your brother in the dust. I’m not the man I was then, and that’s the truth. Hope I haven’t given you too much to make up. Can’t believe I’m saying it, but I’m betting you can beat my boy out there.”

  “I know what you mean,” Gabe said ruefully. “Loyalty’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  “And that’s 10 points to Arcadia,” John announced after coming back from inspecting the two men’s furrows. “Alec came in with a good lead, but Stanley, you plowed it straighter.”

  “Next pair up,” Cliff called. “Gabe and Calvin,” he gestured widely, “come on down.”

  Gabe glanced across at Calvin, frowning with concentration behind his plow. Stanley thought he had this, he reminded himself. And Stanley ought to know.

  “Ready . . . set . . . GO!” Cliff shouted, and they were off. Gabe kept his eyes glued on the black soil ahead of him, concentrated on plowing a straight furrow, on walking as quickly as he could while using all his considerable strength to keep the plow firmly rooted in the ground. Began the turn around the post at the end of the field, and saw with relief that he had a bit of a lead already.

  Calvin wasn’t going to make it easy, though. The other man was pushing himself to the limit. Gabe wrested his gaze away again, focused with all his intensity on the task at hand. By the time he had reached the finish line, he was blowing as hard, sweating as much as Stanley had been. But had also come in ahead of Calvin.

  “You both plowed it straight,” John announced. “And Gabe came in a little faster. That’s five points to Paradise, I’d say. So we’ve got . . .” He stopped. “Arcadia by five.”

  “Which means it’s a cliffhanger,” Cliff agreed. “It all comes down to the last leg. Kevin and Scott, come on over and get started.”

  Gabe felt a stab of worry as Kevin lined up behind his horse and Scott did the same. Not that Kevin couldn’t win. Gabe didn’t have a doubt in the world that Kevin could beat Scott if he tried. Would he be trying, though? Kevin and Rachel would be better off, after all, if Arcadia won today. And strategy was always uppermost, Gabe knew, in Kevin’s devious mind.

  “Ready . . . set . . . GO!” Cliff shouted for a final time. And the challenge was on.

  Two things were clear to Gabe at once. First, that Kevin would have to practically lie down behind the horse to lose to Scott. And second, that he wasn’t going to. As always, Kevin and the horse seemed to have established an immediate rapport, some magic that traveled down the reins and made the animal go exactly where the man wanted her to. And Kevin, too, had gained muscle and stamina out here.

  Scott, on the other hand . . . Gabe supposed, watching the tall, thin figure struggling behind the horse, that Scott had got stronger. It was pretty hard not to, when you were doing this much physical labor every day. But as far as rapport with animals . . . whatever was traveling down the reins from Scott was the opposite of encouraging. In fact, his horse seemed to be slowing down, not speeding up.

  “Go! Damn it to Hell! Go!” A string of curses followed from the end of the field. Kevin had made the turn, was on the way back, but Scott was floundering badly, the horse seeming to decide that he would just as soon keep heading straight ahead.

  In the end, Scott had to leave the plow, go around to the horse’s head, and lead him by the bridle to make the turn. And by that time, Kevin was all but galloping home, to the whoops and cheers of the rest of the Paradise homestead.

  John watched, his expression bemused, as Scott finally approached, red-faced, furious, and still swearing, back at the finish line, then dropped the plow handles with disgust and moved to confront the older man.

  “How am I supposed to compete,” he raged, “if you give me a lousy horse? This was rigged! The whole thing’s a setup!”

  “Wellll . . .” John removed his hat and scratched his head thoughtfully, then settled it carefully back on his grizzled head. Scuffed a boot in the dirt, seeming to examine the ground before looking back up at Scott, who stood clenching and unclenching his fists impatiently. “Didn’t seem like anybody else had any problem,” John drawled. “Alec, now, he did just fine. Calvin too.”

  “The horse was worn out,” Scott insisted. “Their horse,” he nodded contemptuously over at Paradise, “was still fresh. Whereas my horse was obviously overworked, or weak to start with. It couldn’t do it!”

  “Uh-huh,” John said. “Couldn’t do it, you’re right about that. Horse isn’t a machin
e. You gotta talk sweet to ’em. Kinda like a woman that way. You push ’em around, you aren’t going to get a whole lot of cooperation. Maybe you should ask Kevin there for some lessons.”

  “With horses, not with women,” Kevin clarified solemnly. “Or maybe ask Gabe. He might be able to help you out with both. He wins, oh, pretty much all the time, from what I’ve seen.”

  Scott’s face got, if possible, even redder. His mouth opened and closed, and Cliff came forward hastily. “What are our points for this round?” he asked John.

  “The full 15 points to Paradise, this time.”

  “Which makes it Paradise by 10,” Cliff announced. “But don’t worry, Arcadia,” he went on, ignoring the still-furious Scott, who had gone over to stand near the other members of his homestead, none of whom looked especially welcoming. “The women’s challenge is worth the same 45 points. You’re not out of this yet.”

  The margin was too narrow, Mira thought nervously. It all depended on what the challenge was. Rachel was good, Mira had seen that since Day One. And she wanted to win this game as much as Kevin did. If Arcadia won today, Rachel and Kevin were safe for another week. But if they lost . . . This wasn’t a must-win challenge for Rachel, but it was close.

  “Guys, I know you’re tired,” Cliff went on, “so we’re not going to make you move.” The men had, in fact, settled down now onto the spectators’ benches and were sitting with elbows on knees or legs sprawled in front of them, resting after their labors.

  Two young men appeared from the trees, leading a cow apiece. “That’s right,” Cliff said. “It’s going to be short and sweet. A milking race. As you know, milking might have been done by either men or women out here. And even if men did it most of the time, women had to take their turn when a man was unavailable for some reason. Which may or may not have been the case for all of you. So if you’ll come forward, the three of you . . .” He beckoned to the women.