Winsor, Linda

by Along Came Jones

  "Maisy and Esther know all about your trouble. That's why they ran to your side."

  Deanna's tear-reddened eyes sharpened. "What do mean my trouble?"

  Shep recovered quickly from his slip. "You know, your new job not quite what you expected and then getting stranded out here. What else?"

  "Isn't that enough?" She opened the passenger door to get out. "I was so sure that my life would work out here. I rented out my New York apartment, went in debt to buy a car that's way out of my league, even at a bargain, and left a job I'd worked eight years to get. I have nothing to go back to."

  "Then stay here." Shep's mind went blank with shock. Was that him speaking? No, it was God. If he'd had any doubts about helping Deanna, the Sunday message erased them. Yes, he was weak. He'd just put his own life back together again. But Shep wouldn't save Deanna. God would—possibly through him. It didn't hinge on Shep's ability, just his trust in God's Word.

  The Jeep door frozen in her hand, Deanna looked as if she were still caught in his initial shock.

  "You kind of have a way of growing on a person," he added, stumbling over the feelings that accounted for his offer as well. If he was going to trust God, he might as well trust Him with his heart, too.

  Deanna's chin started to quiver again, her eyes filled once more. Then, with a wounded cry, she slammed the door and ran into the house.

  Shep looked after her, speechless. Had he said something wrong? He replayed his offer in his mind, searching for the reason behind her strange reaction. Telling a gal she had grown on him might not be the smoothest compliment in the world, but it was still flattering... wasn't it?

  Bewildered, he climbed out of the vehicle to follow her inside when Jay Voorhees hailed him. Frustration hissing through his teeth, Shep leaned against the open door, forcing the man to come to him. After all, he wouldn't have a bad knee if it weren't for Voorhees.

  "Having a lovers' quarrel?"

  "What do you want, Voorhees?"

  "Come on." The DEA agent's smug derision was enough to make Shep wish the Bible said punch the other cheek. "Penance Posies?"

  Shep felt the blood leave his face. How in the devil— "She must be one hard-hearted Hannah to still be mad after that line."

  The answer to Shep's unspoken question slammed home. His pulse rebounded in an angry rush, scorching everything in its path from neck to scalp. Voorhees planted listening devices, violating their agreement not to use them, violating Shep's closely guarded privacy. Every word said in the house last night—or for who knew how long—had been listened to and recorded. It took all of his religion and self-control not to throttle the government agent then and there.

  "You have until three to tell me what you want; otherwise, get out of my way, you double-crossing, eavesdropping—"

  "How was I to know she didn't have you wrapped around her finger by now?" Voorhees cut him off. "You know we couldn't take your word on it. You know policy. You're out of the loop now."

  His past service counted for nothing? Even as Shep rebelled, he had to admit to the validity of the man's statement. Still—

  "I was hoping she might have said something helpful while you were away," the agent went on. "The money laundering connection of the embezzlement story hit the news this morning, but we withheld your girlfriend's name. All the public knows is that a junior marketing executive and the CEO of Amtron Enterprises have been charged with embezzlement of company funds and laundering drug money. No mention was made of Majors' surviving his fatal accident or the Canadian syndicate connection. So as far as the bad guys know, no one's caught their scent."

  Shep processed the new development, buying time to cool off. "We haven't had the TV on, but then, you already know that."

  Voorhees was unruffled by the sarcasm. "The lab verified that Majors' prints were on the car and the tracking device, so we're stalled until he comes out of the woodwork."

  "Or the syndicate cleans up his mess." Shep nodded toward the travel trailer. "Those guys would be better off as lookouts than eavesdroppers."

  "They're doing both, pal. No need to worry When Majors shows up, we'll be all over him."

  "A two-bit white collar perp is the least of my worries. It's his friends that bother me." Shep couldn't figure out how the mob would know, but experience told him that they had ears and eyes in more places than the authorities could even guess.

  Voorhees leaned against the doorjamb of the vehicle with one hand, taking a look inside. "I tell you, we are on top of it. All you need to do, you lucky dog, is stay on top of Miss Manetti."

  Names unfit for any ear came to Shep's mind; names he'd stored while recovering from the surgery and rehabilitation, when it was anyone's guess if he'd ever walk without a cane or walker. They surfaced so fast and furious that they piled up, tying up his tongue.

  Shep clenched the open Jeep door, blindsided by an urge to defend Deanna's honor and the anger he'd struggled to put behind him in the months after the accident. He thought he'd come to terms with the past, that he'd forgiven the man. Voorhees didn't know what he did then any more than he knew what he was talking about now.

  But reason wasn't cutting it this time. "I know my responsibility," Shep said with a deceptive calm. "Just make certain you know yours."

  He gave the door a sling and pivoted before he saw Voorhees jump clear to keep from having his hand caught in it. Shep couldn't help the satisfaction twitching on his lips at Voorhees's startled oath. Like with most ill-gotten things, the pleasure was short lived.

  Once inside the house, self-recrimination set in. Evidently, his spiritual growth was valid only when it wasn't seriously tested. His isolation on the ranch, among friends and neighbors, had given him a false sense of accomplishment.

  I'm sorry I let You down, Lord. I need Your help to deal with the likes of jay Voorhees. How I feel like treating him and how I know I should treat him just don't agree. But I will try to do as the Good Book says.

  The knotty pine planks of paneling Uncle Dan put up when Shep was six took on a satiny glow in the light of the noonday shining through the sparkling clean glass. The warmth and light offered a reassurance Shep didn't feel he deserved.

  "What was that all about?" Deanna emerged from the bedroom. She'd changed from her dress into casual slacks and a flowery shirt.

  Despite her ill-fitting clothes, Deanna had a natural beauty most women had surgery to acquire. High cheekbones, tall and not too thin like the women on the covers of the magazines at the grocery store, Deanna was round in all the right places. And those baby blues could make a man wrestle a grizzly bare-handed—or punch out a certain government agent.

  "He's just being a pain. They want to poke around a bit longer than they'd told me."

  "They've stayed pretty much out of the way, haven't they?"

  "Skunks stay pretty much out of the way, too, but I don't want 'em around."

  Deanna laughed. "I guess the city would drive you crazy."

  "If you have the right people around you, I guess it doesn't matter where you live."

  The moment the words were out, Shep cringed inwardly. Now they were also on tape.

  "Home is where the heart is."

  Shep wanted to kiss the whimsical curl of Deanna's lips. He wanted to hold her and comfort her, to take away the pain that had wrenched sobs from her... to protect her. If only she'd tell him what really happened so he could help prove her innocence.

  "I have an idea." He stepped up to her and slipped an arm about her waist. "You've done nothing but work since you've been here. Instead of cooking supper, why don't we make some sandwiches and have a picnic? I'll take you up to the spot I've picked to build on one of these days."

  The way her face brightened, he wished he'd thought of it before now.

  "What a lovely idea. I'd love to, but..." Her face fell. "I was just going to lie down for a while." She put her hand to her temples, shaking her head in confusion. "I just... I don't know. All that boo-hooing must have knocked the cheese from my ra
violi, I guess. Do you mind too terribly?"

  "Of course not." How could anyone mind that little-girl-lost look? Shep wished he could hold her while she slept. He wished he could take away all the worries that exacted their toll on her face. God, help me help her. Show me how.

  He took Deanna by the shoulders and turned her. "You march off to bed. I'll take care of supper."

  "No, all I need is—"

  "In these parts, ma'am, when the weather clears, the men take over Sunday supper. It's an unwritten law." He guided her through the bedroom door. "Just a man, food, and fire—like in the Flintstones."

  "There's romaine, cucumber, radishes, and scallions in the fridge. I can make a salad when I get up to go with the meat."

  "That's not people food," he grumbled good-naturedly "That's what the meat eats."

  "You are hopeless," she declared, standing back as Shep turned down the bed.

  The flip of the sheet sent up a whiff of the scented lotion they'd purchased at the Smart Mart. His bed had never smelled so good nor looked more inviting than when Deanna sat on its edge. She stared up at him, back stiff, uncertainty in her eyes.

  Amid the trust and confusion awash there, Shep sensed a kindred longing that could easily have been tapped if he were the man he'd been before his accident. What felt right often trumped what he knew to be right when it came to women. In the end, he lost the girl and the game.

  Shep nixed the kiss he'd intended to plant on her nose, instead managing a husky, "Sleep tight, Slick."

  "Thanks, Shep." The contented purr of her voice and the soft rustle of the bed beneath her weight licked his retreating heels like a fire to dry brush. Like a spooked calf trying to outrun it, his mind darted in one direction and then the other.

  Supper. He needed to get out the chicken and marinate it. Jerking open the refrigerator door, Shep basked in the cool blast of air, looking inside without really seeing the groceries Deanna had organized as she unpacked them the evening before.

  He needed a clear head to help her, to coax the little Irish-Italian charmer into telling him her side of the story so that he could help her, not seduce her so that she'd resent him later.

  This game was for keeps. While Shep hated games, especially where the heart was involved, circumstance and conscience forced him to play What if God had turned him away when he sought the sanctuary and healing of Montana's hills? He had to ignore the panic of getting burned again by going back into service and the risk of falling for someone so different that a future together was as likely as pigs flying.

  This was no longer a matter of the heart and soul—it was one of life or death. This leap of faith was going to require him to put all on the line.

  Twenty-two

  Aloud clanging brought Deanna up with a start from a dreamless sleep. For a split second she wasn't certain where she was or if a train was about to run her over. Then the present came flooding back to her—the interrogation, running off the road, the cowboy carrying her off to a ghost town, her emotional display at church, Shep tucking her in. The tall, lean cowboy was in every flashback with a lazy grin, a devilish smile, a passionate kiss...

  Choosing to dwell upon the latter, Deanna pulled the spare pillow to her chest with a sigh just as the clanging sounded again. Whatever kind of bell it was, it was loud enough to wake up the ghosts all over Hopewell.

  "Dinner's ready, come and get it!"

  And the man cooked as well. Shep was too good to be true. Lord, I know in my heart that You've brought us together for a reason. I just have to be patient for the answer to my prayer for love like Mama and Pop had. But I'm hoping it will be with Shepard Jones.

  "Food's getting cold. Move it, sleepyhead." Shep stood in the open doorway, apron splashed with barbecue sauce.

  "What time is it?" Deanna mumbled through a yawn.

  "Four o'clock and ticking like the devil for five."

  "Give me five minutes," she said, tossing back the covers.

  After washing her face, straightening her sleep-rumpled clothes, and brushing her hair, Deanna made her way to the kitchen. The first thing that struck her was that the windows were no longer barren. The off-white curtains with their gingham check trim were perfect... almost. The ties had been wrapped tight as a rodeo calf's feet around the tiers, so that light came in on both sides of each panel. Over the sink window, one tier hung halfway down from the valance rod, leaving the rest of the window bare.

  "I ran them through the dryer with a wet towel, just like you said," her host beamed proudly.

  Maybe she'd forgotten to pick up a valance. "They certainly brighten the room, don't you think?"

  "If I'd known what to do, I'd have replaced them a long time ago," Shep observed. "But if you take a notion to fiddle with them some—Aunt Sue was always pulling up those ruffles on the top— it won't hurt my feelings. I wasn't sure what to do with the belts."

  Deanna wanted to run to the grinning galoot and give him the hug of his life, but she didn't want to scare him off or do anything that might spoil the moment. "I'll be glad to fiddle with the belts," she assured him as he pulled out her chair for her with a flourish.

  "Now you just sit right here, ma'am, and I'll get the food from the grill."

  She just loved the way he said ma'am. "Wow, talk about above and beyond! You're going to spoil—" she broke off abruptly, suspended halfway to her chair seat. Eyes wide in disbelief at the sight of the bull moose over the mantel with a gingham check blindfold, or rather, valance, she collapsed the rest of the way down in laughter. "You're..." She searched for the right word. Crazy? Wonderful? Surprising? "Unbelievable."

  "I didn't want old Bull to ruin your meal." Pure mischief danced in his lingering look as he backed out the back door.

  Deanna took the time alone to inspect the room. He had certainly been a busy bee while she napped. The curtains up, the scrumptious looking spread on the table, the delicious smelling chicken on the grill—she glanced up—and the ridiculous looking moose. She giggled. Nothing could ruin this, even if old Bull ran through the kitchen right now, valance flying in the wind from his giant antlers.

  "How about a walk?" Shep suggested later after helping with the dishes. He'd insisted, despite Deanna's objection that the cook shouldn't have to clean up.

  "As much as I ate, that's a great idea," she replied. "Although I'll probably waddle more than I'll walk."

  Whether a tribute to the chef or to the fact that she'd skipped lunch, she'd had seconds of everything—not counting the chicken wing she scarfed up while clearing the table. She never ate three pieces of chicken, no matter how small they were.

  "Teasing aside, I like a woman with a healthy appetite... especially when it all goes to the right places." Gallantry personified, Shep opened the door and with a sweeping gesture of his arm, prompted her to go first. It was just as well her back was to him. Hot as her face grew, she was blushing like an addlepated schoolgirl.

  Smoky met them on the porch and happily preceded them to the barn. Patch whinnied expectantly from the corral.

  "Aw, look," Deanna said with satisfaction. "She sees the carrots I grabbed on the way out."

  "She might smell them," Shep corrected, "but my bet is, every time I walk toward the barn, she's hoping it's mealtime."

  "I'll bet she smells them." Deanna shook the carrots in front of her just to make certain.

  Whether Patch really did smell them or not, the mare obliged her with another nicker of anticipation.

  "See," she declared in triumph.

  "You're slick, Slick." Shep's wry grin belied his suggestion that she might be right.

  Still, combined with the electricity of his gaze, it caused her to tingle all the way down to her toes with something more than satisfaction. At the steady of Shep's hand, the awareness intensified. The horse eagerly grabbed the vegetable stick with teeth that looked like a row of yellowed piano keys. Shep or no Shep, she pulled her hand away. Patch bit through the carrot, losing half, so Deanna picked it up and tried again
.

  "Come on," Shep cajoled in a voice that made wild horses his pawns. "I won't let you get hurt."

  Like a warm, breathing shadow fitted to her back, Shep placed one arm about her waist, the other bolstering hers. At that moment, Patch's piano teeth could have taken off her arm at the elbow and Deanna wouldn't have noticed.

  "That's another thing about horses. They're a jealous lot." Shep nodded to where Molly edged up for her share.

  Deanna fed the last carrot to the mule and even mustered the courage to scratch the dry bristle of its forehead. One wary as the other, the mule and Deanna pulled away from each other at the same time.

  "Don't move," Shep counseled her, his breath upon the back of her ear. "Just hold your hand up and wait."

  Sure enough, the mule swung its head back so that Deanna could scratch it again. When she rubbed Molly around her ears and beneath her halter, the animal heaved a wet sigh of bliss.

  "You've cowboyed up right fast, Slick."

  Deanna looked at him askew. "I'll take that as a compliment."

  "It means you're getting the hang of ranch life pretty quick. When you aren't running from them, you have a way with animals. Smoky trails you like a shadow."

  "Well, I've always loved pets," she admitted, "but I think the way to their hearts is food. When I was little, I wanted a career at the Bronx zoo, so I could feed all the animals. That was before size became so intimidating."

  "I'd say it's a sign of your generous and trusting nature. Animals can sense it."

  It could also be a handicap. So should she throw the proverbial baby out with the bath water and never trust again, or had Shep saved the trait before it was too late?

  "So what kind of pets did you have?"

  "A cat, which had to be kept outside, a guinea pig, a turtle, goldfish, and—" she belted out in frivolous song— "a parakeet in a pear tree."

  "Did you have to get rid of any pets before you came west?"

  Deanna picked up a stick and toyed with it. "I haven't been home long enough to have a pet since high school, although I condo-sat with a few for traveling friends."