He still experienced an occasional rush of shock when he realized that he’d fathered this wonderful child. He sat her booted feet down on the floor and looked at her. “Just look at you!” he exclaimed. “Wrangler jeans, boots, and even a Cruel Girl snap-back cap. You’re turnin’ into a real cowgirl.”
She grinned up at him. “Mom said we was gonna be cowgirls when we mubed here.”
He chuckled. “Hey, do you know which saddle your mom rides?” he asked conspiratorially.
“Sure, she rides Uncle Rance’s old saddle.” She noticed the mare and stretched her hand out to pet the animal’s nose. “She said deir butts are da same size.” There was a giggle in the child’s voice as she spoke.
Rafe couldn’t disagree with that, but Mesa’s sure had a lot more shape to it than Rance’s boney old behind did.
In practically no time, he had Rance’s saddle secured onto the mare’s broad back. He tossed Raale into the saddle and led the mare to his trailer where he found the bridle Henry Dunn had used on the mare. He was buckling it in place when Raale spoke again. “Daddy, what’s her name?”
He shrugged, then turned and lifted his daughter down. “Let’s look at her papers and see.”
They unfolded the registration papers and Rafe whistled. No damn wonder Dunn had asked so much for her. With names like Doc Bar from two different lines, Skipper W, Two Eyed Jack, and Pawnee Eagle in her extended pedigree, the animal was carrying some of the best foundation Quarter Horse blood in the country in her veins. He finally focused on her name. “It says here her name is Gold Bar Jackie. What do you think we oughta call her?”
Raale shrugged. “I don’ wants to call her Jackie. It’s…like a peoples name.”
Rafe chuckled. “Why not ask your mom what she thinks?”
The child’s chocolate eyes flashed with excitement. “Come on, she’s under the shed where Uncle Rance and Uci are.”
He hesitated. “Do you think you can lead the horse to your mom?”
Raale grinned. “You bet!”
He nodded. “Why don’t you lead her over and ask your mom to ride her with you?”
“For real?” Raale turned and stroked the mare’s nose again. “I can ride her?”
“With your mom, for now,” he reminded her. “When you get comfortable cantering, then you can ride her by yourself some.”
He followed the pair out so he could watch as the mare and the small girl approached the old machine shed where Mesa was. The machine shed had been vacated of machines to make room for tables and chairs and a special ramp that lifted Rance and a few friends who chose to sit with him, onto a platform high enough to see into the arena with ease. He watched as Mesa spotted their child and then turned to look at him. He nodded at her before turning to go to his rig and mount Dollar.
Slowly, he warmed the gelding up, walking, trotting and loping circles in the arena, talking to other ropers going through the same ritual. It was important to make sure their mounts were warmed up, the animal’s muscles stretched and supple, but it was a social time as well. Even while he bull-skated with the other ropers, his eyes kept skittering back to Mesa and Raale riding the stocky palomino mare around outside the arena. His chest tightened with pride at the sight. They looked beautiful and he couldn’t repress a sudden surge of possessiveness. He frowned. Yes, Raale was his, but Mesa?
Jenny and Heather had been drafted to work the announcer’s stand when Jenny wasn’t heeling and Beth had been given the job of keeping time. The competitors would take turns working the gates. It was a casual affair where everyone pitched in and it was always accompanied by good natured heckling. Practically every roper teamed up with every other roper, and the event went well into the late afternoon.
The air was heavy with the smell of beef and pork being turned over the spit with Bob making a point of overseeing the process. Rafe chuckled when he spotted his dog following the old man’s every step, making sure he was available each time Bob carved a small sample of meat for a quick taste test, just in case something dropped. Bob being Bob, he usually managed to drop a tidbit for the bulldog.
Just before dark, the winning team was announced and Rafe as header and Levi as heeler claimed second place money, just barely one tenth of a second slower than Russ and Levi. Only a few people left, the others securing their horses to the sides of their trailers with hay bags provided for them to munch on. The hungry crowd gathered beneath the machine shed to eat the tender beef and pork that had been tantalizing every nose for hours, as it slowly cooked over the spit.
Rafe was still listening to Levi brag about taking first and second money as a heeler until Trish joined them and his deputy’s cocky banter dropped to become soft, sweet words spoken into the young woman’s ear. Rafe took Raale’s hand and walked through the serving line with her, making sure that she accepted a serving of the freshly made coleslaw, as well as the ribs and beans. His own plate was heaping when the two of them returned to the table to find the only places left were between Mesa and Jory. Raale slipped in beside Jory and began telling him about the cakes she’d spotted on the other end of the serving line. Rafe tossed Spur one of the ribs from his plate and watched the dog carry it to a grassy patch between the shed and the arena where he settled down to enjoy it.
Left with no choice, Rafe stepped across the bench and lowered his frame into the space beside Mesa. He could already feel his heart rate increasing as he squeezed into the space.
Mesa hadn’t seen the two of them return, but when he settled onto the bench beside her, she was instantly aware of the heat radiating from his body. She turned to look at him and although he managed a smile, she experienced the shock of pure, smoldering sexual longing. He’d shed the western shirt he’d worn during the day and a snug black t-shirt stretched across the muscles of his chest. Her appetite evaporated. She tamped down the curl of lust that stirred restlessly in the pit of her stomach.
In order to conceal his unease, Rafe ate. He tried not to think about how fresh she smelled, sitting so close to him that their legs were pressed snugly together from their hips almost to their knees.
Finally, he gave it up for a lost cause. All the food in the world couldn’t make him stop thinking about how enticing Mesa smelled, how good she’d always tasted. He pushed his plate away and appeared to rivet his attention on the conversation that Jory and Raale were having. His leg moved, his calf rubbing sensuously against Mesa’s. He couldn’t help wondering if she was as affected by their unusually close proximity as powerfully as he was, and if she wasn’t he wanted to make sure she was.
Mesa almost dropped the plastic container of tea she held in her hand when Rafe’s leg began rubbing against hers, like a cat twining against the corner of the kitchen cabinet. She swallowed and turned to look at him. He was grinning at something Raale was saying, appearing to on-lookers, completely oblivious to the fact that he was raising her heart rate with so little effort. Fine, she decided, if he wanted to go that route, she’d certainly show him she knew the trail as well as he did. She shifted slightly, raising herself up, leaning toward him. She placed one hand on his shoulder, her fingers aware of the heat of his body through the thin black t-shirt beneath them and lifted a leg behind her and over the bench. As her leg lifted, it caused her to lean further over, her breasts almost in his face. She looked down to find him looking up at her, his eyes flashing with amber lights. “Sorry,” she chortled innocently. “It’s almost impossible to get up without getting in your lap.”
He steadied her with one strong hand going to her waist for support. “That could get real interestin’,” he shot back at her, his voice sounding sexy and rough.
Her hand on his shoulder lingered just a moment longer than necessary as did his hand on her waist. “I’m going to get Raale a piece of cheesecake. Can I bring you anything?” The black material of his shirt enhanced the chocolate eyes and ebony brows that were arched at her. He’d always looked so good in a black t-shirt.
He grinned. “I’d love a piec
e.”
The roughness of his voice left little doubt in her mind what he was insinuating, but she managed to smile sweetly. “How about pie? I understand Mrs. McFarland makes a wonderful pie, just full of bull.”
Rafe’s chuckle was genuine and he nodded. “Whatever you bring Raale will be fine for me.” When she started to walk away he caught her hand. “I’m usually very hard to please, but I’m willin’ to bet that you won’t have any trouble rememberin’ what I like.”
She pulled her hand away and headed for the dessert table, her knees feeling slightly weak and her heart racing like a colt in the Kentucky Derby. She did remember what he liked and with that memory she was immersed in a feeling of warmth. Damn him! He knew just how to turn her into a bowl of slush, with just a touch and a couple of innuendos.
She thought she’d been standing for only a minute, seeming to look over the desserts available, and then a hard masculine shoulder brush against the back of her shoulder.
“I decided I’d come help you. You looked like you were havin’ trouble makin’ up your mind,” Rafe spoke softly. He was so close to her that she could feel the heat of his body as he leaned over her, scanning the table. “If memory serves me, you really like….lemon cream pie.” He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her, as he picked up a small paper plate with a generous slice of her favorite. “What’s Raale’s favorite?”
Mesa’s breath caught in her throat. “Cho—chocolate. Anything chocolate.”
He grinned. “Like me, huh?”
She nodded. “In a lot of ways.”
His face lost all trace of humor as his eyes held hers. “I…uh..,” he started, but behind him Levi spoke.
“You two are holding up the line.”
Rafe’s head swiveled and he shot his deputy a heated look. “Take a deep breath and wait your turn, Levi. Two things you don’t rush. Do you know what they are?”
Levi shrugged.
“A woman is one; your boss is the other and you’re toein’ the line pretty close here, on both counts,” Rafe informed him.
A grin split Levi’s wide mouth. “You’re just grumpy because you only got second place in the roping.”
Mesa picked up a piece of chocolate cheesecake for Raale as Rafe returned his attention to the table. “Would you grab me one of those, too? I’ll get us forks,” he said.
Soon Bob got the hands busy cleaning up. Food disappeared into huge ice chests and in practically no time, the band began to tune up their instruments. They were on a small stage that had been prepared ahead of time, midway between the rows of tables that were arranged along the outside edges of the machine shed. A crude dance floor had been built but had been propped up against the end of the big shelter to protect the bar-b-cue pit from any wind or rain, if that happened. It was now moved into the middle of the sheltered space and placed down, flat atop the dry, sandy ground. The band struck up a lively tune, and soon the dance floor was in heavy use.
With all the rib bones he’d been given and dropped bites of food he’d retrieved from the ground, Spur’s stomach was stuffed. He was stretched out broadside on the patch of grass he’d chosen for the evening, his droopy eyes languidly watching the activities, content to observe.
Rafe and Mesa still sat in their crowded space although it wasn’t quite as crowded now. Raale and Rusty were attempting to show the older folks some steps they’d learned watching television and a few of the other children had joined in. After the first song ended, Raale ran over to her mother.
“Sing for us, Mom. Please?” the child encouraged.
Mesa shook her head. “This is Uncle Rance’s night. Let’s just listen to the music.”
Rafe stood up and then pulled her to her feet. “Sing for us, Mesa,” he encouraged loudly. Immediately some of the others took up the request and it became a chant.
Finally, she nodded; pulled off the cap she’d been wearing all day and raked her fingers through her thick dark hair.
She walked to the stage and conferred briefly with the members of the band, and an extra guitar was passed to her, before she turned around and looked across the space toward the raised platform where Rance sat with a few of his closest cronies.
She removed a microphone from its stand and held it to her mouth. “I just happen to know that Uncle Rance’s favorite singer was a country music artist with as much writing talent as singing talent. Don Williams had one of those voices that no one else ever sounded anything like. He became one of my favorite singers, as well. Now, I know I can’t sound like him, but I’d like to sing one of his songs for Uncle Rance.” She nodded to the musicians and began the plaintive words of one of the singers big hits; Till the Rivers All Run Dry.
When it came to an end she blew kisses to Uncle Rance and then smiled at her small audience. “But right now, I don’t think we are worried about our rivers running dry.” The entire gathering laughed, thinking how close the nearby river was to reaching flood stage. “And now, I’d like to sing one of my favorite songs.” The music started and she began to sing a ballad that she’d recorded several years before. Desperado was a song that had been successful for several artists, and it had been one of Mesa’s biggest hits. It was a song she she’d always loved no matter who sang it.
Rafe listened to the words but before it was half way through, he left the group and sought the stillness of the barn. He could still hear the words of the song and they tugged at his heart. The first time he’d heard the song on the radio he’d recognized Mesa as the singer and her voice touched a place deep inside him. She must have been carrying Raale when she recorded the song and he didn’t know why, but to him it seemed she was singing the words for him. But it was Mesa who’d been afraid of coming down from her mountain.
Before he’d completed his assignment in Branson, he knew she’d slipped into his heart in a way no woman ever had. He’d asked her to come back to Oak Ridge and wait for him to complete the debriefing he’d have to undergo after the undercover operation ended. He’d planned to resign from the Marshal’s Service and return to Oak Ridge, marry Mesa and take over the family ranch. The Lord knew how Uci wanted him to come home and settle down. He wasn’t expecting the flat refusal she’d given.
“I can’t live there, Rafe. Ever. Stay here with me. Jory and you and I can make Howell’s Hideaway a place that every tourist that hits town will have to visit.” Mesa’s voice was laced with anger and bitterness when she spoke of Oak Ridge. “I’ll go anyplace else with you, but just don’t ask me to live near Oak Ridge.”
Living anywhere else had never been a possibility for Rafe. His roots were there, his family, all the things that he’d ever held dear were tied to that small community. Everything except Mesa. Nothing he said caused her to even waver in her refusal, and Rafe knew he could never live anywhere else. He gave serious thought to trying, but knew that the only place he could ever be truly happy was the ranch there in Oak Ridge where he’d grown up, the ranch where his parents were buried, in the country where his ancestors had ranged for generations, the ranch where Uci lived, just waiting for him to come home and take over.
It had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he’d left his offer to her open. “I’ll be there, Mesa, if you change your mind.”
But she hadn’t changed her mind. Just like the desperado in her song, she wasn’t willing to let anyone close enough to alter her feelings. Until Rance got hurt. He still didn’t understand why that had been such a powerful force. Yes, she’d always loved her uncle, but Mesa and Jory had made a lot of money and she could have easily hired people to run the place and even to look after the old man.
“I heard her singing one night in Memphis and it changed my life,” Jory’s voice came softly from behind him.
Rafe jerked around. He hadn’t heard anyone enter the barn. He didn’t say anything. He remembered a little about how the two of them had gotten acquainted all those years ago.
“Every word of the song she sang that night was the story of my life. I
t was like looking at a picture. It let me see what a mess I’d made and then she helped me clean my mess up. If I hadn’t happened to hear her that night, I’m sure I’d be dead by now.”
Rafe shrugged. “You’ve been good for her, also, Jory. There was a higher power at work that night, bringin’ y’all together.”
Jory chuckled softly. “You’re probably right, but I’ll never understand why I might have been worth having her in my life.”
Rafe turned and looked at the palomino mare in the stall. He’d been scratching her jaw when Jory spoke and startled him. Now the horse stepped back up so he could resume the scratching. “We don’t usually deserve the good we get, or the bad. Things just are what they are.”
“You know she’s never loved anyone but you.” Jory spoke quietly. “And she knows you would have never hurt her like she hurt you. She was just young and scared of returning to Oak Ridge.”
Rafe shook his head sadly and shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’ve never loved anyone else either, but every time I look at Raale, I feel an ache inside for all of what I missed. I don’t know if I can ever get past that.”
Jory stretched out his hand and gently patted Rafe on one shoulder. “What will you miss out on, if you don’t?”
Then he turned and walked back out to the machine shed. He’d said the words he’d been wanting to say to Rafe for the last couple of weeks. Now, it was almost Raale’s bedtime and he’d volunteered to make sure she was tucked in. He knew Rance was tired too and would probably accompany them to the cabin. He and the old cowboy had become friends and he was afraid he’d miss some of the time they’d spent together when the nurses started taking care of him full time on Monday.
Rafe thought about Jory’s words. What would he miss if he couldn’t forgive Mesa for not being honest with him? He wasn’t sure it mattered because he just couldn’t find the forgiveness, in him, to give. He awarded the mare a final pat and left the barn.
Sweet Talking Lawman Page 13
