Winsor, Linda

by Along Came Jones

  "Anyone special... aside from the jerk you're running from?"

  C. R. was a black cloud that refused to go away, even during sunny moments like this. She shook her head. "Not really. I didn't have time... building a career, you know?" Deanna snapped the stick in two and tossed the pieces over the fence, the way she'd tossed away all her effort and sacrifice. "And when I do take the time, I wind up with nothing... except God," she hastened to add.

  "God is enough."

  Shep's conviction stopped Deanna in her tracks. She waited expectantly for him to elaborate. Instead, he kept on walking, forcing her to keep up with him. What was it the minister said about knowing and feeling? She knew God was enough. She felt like she needed more.

  "I found that out after I busted my knee," Shep finally volunteered, adding dourly, "which resulted in my relationship with someone—who I thought had hung the moon—going sour."

  "What, was she nuts or something?" Deanna bit her lip, but it was too late. She'd already incriminated herself.

  "No." Shep let her ready quip slide like a gentleman. "Ellen was a diehard city girl who didn't know the meaning of the word compromise, especially if it meant leaving the glitter and bright lights. All elegance, no substance."

  The bitter edge of Shep's voice struck a kindred chord in Deanna, even though his ex wasn't a crook. C. R.'s betrayal had hurt as much as it frightened her. It was the hurt that made her empathize.

  "I imagine you know exactly how she felt."

  Nailed by Shep's direct gaze, Deanna hesitated. Was it accusation or curiosity behind its frosty wall? "I know how you felt," she declared. "I left the city behind, remember? And I'd hardly call this outfit elegant."

  Instead of sharing her wry humor, Shep drew further into a contemplative shell. Leaning on the fence rail, he lost himself in the flamingo pink of the western horizon. There was little else to do but join him—and savor the moment.

  This was the kind of Montana she'd sought, taking in the panoramic postcard beauty before her. White-tipped mountains above the dark green tree line drew the lazy, sun-soaked clouds about them like a cloak. The evergreen skirts were studded with blue-gray rock and garlanded by strips cleared for roads here and there.

  Spilling near the foot of the hills was a glistening ribbon of water Deanna hadn't noticed before. It lazily wound through the large pasture, where wildflowers presented their colors in homage to the majesty of the sun.

  "You'll never see a skyline like that in the city."

  Shep spoke to no one in particular, but Deanna answered anyway.

  "It is beautiful." She rested, chin propped on folded arms on the rail next to Shep.

  Some kind of birds sang for all they were worth from the cluster of shade trees along the bank. Hidden by shiny leaves, they made the gray-barked grove their stage for Mother Nature's enjoyment. Annoyed by Patch's close proximity, Molly kicked up her heels and bolted across the waving meadow grass, ears laid back. Her dark brown coat glistening and black tail swishing, she was sort of pretty, for a mule.

  Molly lacked the grace of the horse that started after her... and the speed. As if in a race, Patch swept past the mule, splashing through the shallow stream first. Then, as though having second thoughts, the spotted cow pony pivoted abruptly and walked back to have a drink.

  "So what caused your relationship with the man of your dreams to go sour?" Shep asked after a long spell of silence. "Did you see it coming or were you blindsided like me?"

  "Blindsided, definitely." Like now by that question. Why wouldn't he leave her past alone and enjoy the moment?

  "So it's definitely over then."

  "Over, finished, dead." Deanna cringed inside at the mental image of C. R.'s charred car. "Look, I'd just as soon not talk about him, okay?"

  "No problem. I understand."

  She doubted that but appreciated Shep's consideration anyway.

  "Just one more question." Deanna stiffened, waiting.

  "You said you left the city behind. What are the chances of your giving the West another chance?"

  If she hadn't been leaning on the rail of the fence, Deanna would have collapsed in shock. Was Shepard Jones saying what she thought he was saying? Her mind did a two-step—two cheers forward, one doubt back.

  "I..." What if she were reading more into his words than was really there? "I guess it depends on my motivation to stay. I have to work—"

  "What if you had a job here?"

  Was the man joking? She couldn't read his face, turned toward the sunset as he was. All she saw was his profile—the weathered ridge of his cheek, the pronounced square of his jaw, clenched in... what? Apprehension?

  "What, you want to hire me as your maid? After ruining the curtains and burning your meals?" she exclaimed with exaggerated incredulity. "Bill Gates wouldn't take a risk like that."

  He finally laughed. Some women might have been insulted, but she was realistic when it came to homemaking. It wasn't her thing. She admitted—

  "I want more than a maid, Deanna." Shep stopped her thoughts dead in their tracks. He turned, taking in her blank expression. "I've been thinking about your idea of turning Hopewell into a resort of sorts."

  So he wanted a marketing consultant. Deanna checked her disappointment. Guys like Shepard Jones didn't propose to people who'd lied to and used them.

  "And I think it's a good one—if I had the right partner." Shep placed his hands on her shoulders, searching her gaze with an intensity that reached for her soul. "I need someone I can trust with my dream, not someone who'll run off and leave me holding the empty bag."

  Like C. R. had done her. Strange, but the cut to her pride was no longer as deep and raw as it had been. Shep could make her forget C. R. ever existed. The thought of walks like this—of watching the sun slip behind the mountains each evening, pulling the blanket of night over it—was like a balm to her wounds. God, is this it? We're to be partners?

  "And who knows where we can go from there."

  She tilted her head back as Shep stepped closer.

  "Great things can be built with trust, Deanna, if we lay it on a foundation of faith." His hands were warm where they touched her back. "I would ask you only to be honest with me, nothing more, nothing less. No more blindsides."

  What was he getting at? A change of mind like his ex, or did he suspect Deanna of being dishonest?

  "If you don't think you could stand life around here, tell me now. Our Montana winters are long, cold, and often lonely" Shep hesitated, almost swaying in his boots, as though he stood on a precipice trying to decide whether to leap or leave. Suddenly he leaned toward her, pressing his forehead to hers—eye-to-eye, nose-to-nose. "I'd do my utmost to keep you warm and happy... as... as your husband, of course."

  Husband? Half her mind simply refused to accept the mind-boggling idea that he even wanted her out here, much less that he'd consider marriage.

  Yes, he said husband, the other half confirmed. If Shep leapt, it would be by the book.

  But it's impossible under the circumstances.

  All things are possible through Jesus, if you believe... if you trust in God's promises. Remember?

  Burying their differences, the two opposing voices finally merged. Shep did say husband. He wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it. And he wouldn't have her any other way. And neither would she.

  The news traveled through her veins, spread by the jungle drum of her pulse, while Deanna's heart played leapfrog with her tongue. It was her turn to leap—no, to trust. If she was going to trust in God, she'd have to trust in His Shepard as well. Yet the words piled up in the back of her mouth, wedged by excitement. There was little choice but to answer with her lips.

  Deanna slowly spelled out her answer to Shep with a kiss that left no room for interpretation. Yes, yes, yes! The fingers she ran through his thick hair added to the chorus, singing in a language all their own. He was exactly what she'd left the city for—a good, honest, hardworking cowboy. God had turned the cloud of C. R. into a si
lver lining—Shep. And here and now, in his arms, was a moment to die for...

  Not lie for. Three short little words, yet their impact was that of a wrecking ball, taking down the hope she'd built upon the sand of deception. The roof of euphoria crashed to ground zero, leaving nothing but the dust of what might have been.

  Or was this a chance to make a clean start? Would she build something so precious as this on sinking sands of deceit, or would she do what she knew was right? The choice was hers.

  "What's wrong?" Shep's voice was husky with desire as he nuzzled her ear. Deanna heard him inhale the scent of her shampoo and test the softness of her skin with his lips. The hot rush of his breath burned upon her neck.

  God, what do I do? Tell him and trust that he'll stick with me?

  Backing away, Shep caught her chin in the crook of his finger, raising her face until the waning sun glistened a blinding brightness in her eyes. "What is it, Deanna? Tell me."

  She couldn't see the concern on his face, but she felt it. Like one of his horses, she found herself wanting to succumb to his will, to confess. But what if she lost him? What if he turned her in? After all, he still had the tags with the warning that it was unlawful to remove them on his pillows. He stopped completely at stop signs in the middle of nowhere, with no vehicle in sight for miles.

  "It can't be all that bad, Slick."

  When his effort to tease a smile back to her clenched lips failed, Shep drew her gently against him, sharing his strength and assurance. His shirt caught the tears that streaked down her face.

  "God will never leave you nor forsake you, Deanna," he whispered against the top of her head. "Nor will I. Tell me what just threw up that wall. Maybe together, we can take it down."

  But what could he do? Shep was too good and noble to be involved in this. He'd taken her in with complete trust. An invisible fist squeezed her chest as though to dislodge her confession.

  God, I confessed to You. Isn't that enough?

  "I can't help you if you won't tell me."

  What? Do you want your life to become a rerun of the television fugitive story and risk throwing away your every chance at happiness?

  It was the first time Deanna ever realized that God was speaking to her directly—and He had a Brooklyn accent. He was also right. She gave herself a mental smack. Of course He was right. He was God. Whether now or later, Shep was going to find out. It was better now, before she loved him even more.

  Better confess now, because whether Shep kept his word or not, God would keep His and stand by her. Deanna just had to step out onto the thrashing water of her emotions and ignore the storm. Battered by fear, weary of the guilt that pulled her under, she had to reach through clouds of doubt, to where she could not see—to climb upon the waiting Rock. All other ground was sinking sand.

  Sinking sand or the Rock?

  Twenty-three

  "Maybe we should go back to the house, because at least one of us is going to have to sit down."

  From the little he knew of Deanna's trouble, Shep had to admire her resilient humor. It was her life ring when she was in over her head. But returning to the house with its electronic ears was out of the question. He wanted—no, needed—to hear what Deanna had to say without others listening in.

  He pointed to the cottonwood grove in the middle of the sweeping pasture. "If you don't want to miss this sunset, there's a couple of rocks over there."

  Deanna hesitated. "What about the horses? I mean, you think they'd try to run us off or something?"

  "Not a chance." As if to prove there was nothing to fear, he climbed over the rails first and extended his hand. "Because they know who we are, they might mosey over to see what we're doing, but they won't bother us."

  Was the panic lighting Deanna's face as he helped her over the fence due to horses or their subject? He promised he'd never leave nor forsake her, but what if she admitted she'd been Majors' partner as well as romantically involved with the man? What would he do then?

  "Ohhh, here they come."

  Taking the small hand reaching for his, Shep gave her a reassuring squeeze. Exactly as he expected, Molly and Patch came within fifty yards of the grove and watched curiously as he and Deanna made a seat of a suitcase-sized rock overlooking the rushing stream.

  "There are two kinds of creatures in this world—predators and prey. Like I told you before, horses fall into the latter category, which makes them cautious, not to mention skittish."

  "But what preys on a horse?"

  "Man, big cats, wolves—"

  She held up her hand. "Okay, that's enough. All I need is something else to worry about."

  "It doesn't even have to be a real threat. A horse will spook over anything it perceives as out of the ordinary. A thoroughbred threw me once because it spied a tractor sitting at the edge of a field. The thing wasn't even moving."

  Deanna looked past Shep, downstream where Molly and Patch had meandered. Only Molly still acted interested in them. The mule stretched out her neck, nostrils flared and twitching.

  "Is she mad or what?" Deanna asked warily.

  "Horses smell trouble. They can't really see who we are, but they can certainly smell us. That's what Molly is doing, taking a second look... or sniff."

  "I should be so lucky," she snorted daintily "If I could have smelled trouble..." The despair filling her eyes twisted Shep's heart with unseen hands. Her shoulders sagged under its weight. "I don't know where to start."

  "How about with the jerk who abused you?" Shep already knew about her New York job and that Majors had hired her away from it.

  "C. R." Deanna kicked at a small stone, sending it splashing into the streambed. "He didn't physically abuse me, like I let you think. He emotionally betrayed me, letting me think he wanted me to be more than the new marketing manager. And... I don't know. I'll be thirty soon. Maybe my biological clock scrambled my brain, but I fell for his claims that Montana would not only provide job advancement, but that it was a great place to raise a family."

  So she wasn't one of those professional women who had no time or room in her career for kids. At least that made Shep breathe a little easier.

  "Well, I swallowed it all—hook, line, and sinker."

  Her voice breaking at times and hard as cold steel at others, Deanna told her story.

  "Two weeks, he sent flowers, took me to nice places. We had lunch together every day when he was in Great Falls. Afterward, I usually stopped by the bank for him to make a deposit, since he always had one o'clocks with the board three days a week and it was on my way back to the building."

  Shep wanted to ask how far Majors went to convince Deanna of his affection but held his tongue. Never rush a confession that's moving along on its own. More often than not, a talkative perp would volunteer answers to questions that hadn't even been thought of. Someone who was inherently honest, as he believed Deanna to be, wouldn't know how to cover up a partially exposed truth. Nor would she think of trying.

  "We even went to Toronto for a weekend—strictly business, mind you," she stipulated, a flash of color rising to her cheeks. "He wanted me to do a presentation for this major account he'd been trying to get. We spent the nights tweaking and working in the changes they asked for. I was so flattered by his compliments on a job well done that I didn't really wonder why he made no move toward romance beyond a good-night kiss."

  Deanna glanced from the submerged stone to Shep. "After working till 4 a.m. and having to present the work at nine, a kiss was an accomplishment."

  "What, was he nuts or somethin'?" Shep's imitation of Deanna made her grin.

  Focused on the stone, she continued. "The week before I wound up here was crazy. C. R. was back and forth from Toronto, so that Friday was the only day we actually made a lunch date. Even then, it was rushed. So I made his deposit as usual and took the rest of the afternoon off to shop for a coworkers wedding gift. We'd taken up a collection.

  "After the Saturday wedding, everyone danced till late at the reception. I
t was so much fun. I really liked the people I worked with. And C. R. even talked about how we'd do this or that differently. . .when we decided to take the plunge," she explained. "The other marketing personnel even saw something between us, the way they kept teasing us." Deanna swallowed hard, as if the emotion in her voice had thickened to the point where she couldn't speak. "I mean, I wasn't the only one fooled."

  Shep put his arm around her shoulders with a squeeze. "Hearts can make a fool of anyone, Slick. I'd even put my money where my mouth was and bought the ring. When Ellen accepted it, I was certain it was a done deal."

  Her brow shot up. "The ditz didn't keep it, did she?"

  Ditz. Shep had never thought of Ellen like that. If one of them had been a ditz, it was him for thinking he could transplant his hybrid flower into the wilds with nothing more than love. "She gave it back and I returned it."

  "You ever notice, of all the great poets and scholars, not one ever answered Shakespeare's question about whether it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? I mean, the last one can hurt, but the first one feels fatal."

  "Yet, here we are."

  Deanna searched his gaze, starved for a morsel of reassurance. "Yeah, well that's all well and good, but don't take off your running shoes. The story's not over yet.

  "Early the next morning after the wedding, C. R. left for a Monday business meeting in Canada—or so I thought." Her face mirrored her reaction to what followed—astonishment when the police took her downtown and interrogated her about C. R.'s whereabouts and the contents of the bank deposit box, then horror compounded by hurt as it sunk in that, not only had she been betrayed, but she'd been framed as well.

  Shep's spirit soared in triumph. He knew it. Deanna was the dupe, an innocent victim.

  "C.R. embezzled more than 3 million dollars from the company, and he'd used me to make the deposits." She shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't even look in the bag. Yeah, it was big and heavy, but it was from our biggest account. Dumb as turkey, I just handed it to the clerk at the counter and carried the slips back to him."