“Well, now. Maybe you’re right, Jamie. Maybe I have misremembered how it was that last time. It’s been a couple of years, and a man forgets, sometimes, when he has more important things on his mind.” He lifted his glass and swallowed the last of his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Of course, up at Bluffdale, I had other things to think about, but I’m out now, and I’m just visiting old friends here in town. Reestablishing old connections, you might say.”
She tried to keep the fear out of her voice. “Orrin, I don’t want any trouble. Just let go of my arm and I’ll get out of here.” She couldn’t bear the feeling of his hand on her wrist, gripping her so casually, so easily. “I don’t want to have to make a scene here.” She sure didn’t, not in front of all these people. “I just want to get home. Let me go, Orrin!”
“Sure, honey. No problem.” Orrin was having a good time. “And I’ll tell you what.” He leaned close to her, his breath heavy against her face, his words slurred, only a bit above a whisper, almost drowned out by the raucous music and laughter that filled the air around them. “Just to be sure you get home safe, why don’t I go along with you? Give us a chance to renew old memories. We can just walk out of here quiet-like, no one will ever know.”
“No, Orrin, no!” Her fingers were frantic now, the tears imminent.
“Hey, Jamie. Take it easy, honey. We’re just going to have a little fun.”
Across the dance floor, Harvey Jackman set the pitcher of beer onto the table and dropped his big frame into his chair.
“What you staring at, Cal?” Harvey had picked his way, with considerable difficulty, through the noisy crowd of couples that filled the little patch of wooden floor, and his buddy seemed hardly aware that he’d arrived at their table.
Cal Cameron was leaning way back in his chair, resting it casually, just balanced, against the wall behind him, his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans, his long legs stretched out to brace the heels of his boots against the floor. His buff-colored Stetson was pushed to the back of his head, exposing black hair that curled above a deeply tanned face. A frown had drawn his black brows down, and his eyes, coal-black and narrowed slightly, were focused intently across the noisy room.
“Hey, Harvey. Who’s the pretty little lady over at the bar?” He lifted his chin, gesturing toward Jamie. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she’d walked in. “The little blonde in the orange vest.” The little blonde, he was thinking, with the slim, trim shape that looked especially interesting in jeans and work boots and a Day-Glo construction vest. A small girl in what looked maybe to be in some big trouble.
Harvey was filling their glasses from the pitcher. He looked up and followed the line of Cal’s gaze.
“Oh,” he said after a quick glance. “That’s Jamie Sundstrom.” He finished pouring the beer and set the pitcher back onto the tabletop. A dismissive air passed over his good-natured face. “Only I’m not so sure you could call Jamie Sundstrom a lady.” Immediately, as though in self-reproach, his smile became self-conscious and awkward; Harvey didn’t like to speak unkindly of anyone.
Cal’s eyebrows lifted questioningly, but he didn’t take his eyes off Jamie. “She sure looks like a lady to me, Harv.”
“Yeah, well, maybe so. All I know is I’ve heard talk that her family’s no good, her dad’s a drunk, her husband kicked her out, and the judge took her kid away from her. Couple of years ago.”
“That’s tough.” Cal’s frown was deepening as he continued to watch what was happening at the bar. “Still, Harvey, lady or not, she’s just a little bit of a thing, and I don’t like to see any man push a woman around the way that drunk sonofabitch is doing.”
With a deliberate motion, he moved his hat forward, settling it down firmly on his forehead.
“Shoot, Cal. You going to start a fuss?”
“Don’t worry, Harv. No fuss, no muss.” Cal braced his hands on the table, letting his chair steady itself on its four legs, and he raised himself slowly from it. “This’ll just take a minute.”
Harvey sighed as Cal started across the room.
“Shoot,” Harvey said, his words lost in the din that filled the place. “I thought we’d just stop in for a nice quiet drink before heading back to the ranch.”
* * *
At the bar, Jamie was trying desperately to get out of Orrin’s grip. He was hurting her arm and she was going to have to start yelling for help. But a scene, here in the bar, was the last thing she wanted. Waves of panic flooded through her as she cast her eyes helplessly around the smoke-filled, crowded room. That’s when she saw the cowboy, his eyes fixed on Orrin, moving slowly toward them. She wasn’t noticing much about him, scared as she was, except for that steady gaze and the solid build—that, and a slight limp, as though he’d hurt his knee.
The man came up close to them and his quiet voice reached her clearly through the boisterous racket of the music and the laughter.
“This fellow giving you any trouble, ma’am?” His dark eyes, cool and genial, smiled at her and relief beyond words flooded over her. Clearly he’d read the situation right and had come to rescue her.
Orrin’s hand didn’t move from Jamie’s arm and his eyes glittered meanly.
“Shove off, cowboy.” There was no smile on his face now. “We’re just having a good time here.”
“Is that right, ma’am?” The man’s eyes held hers steadily. He seemed to be ignoring O.D. “You having a good time?” Jamie didn’t need to answer. He could read the call for help that flashed from her eyes.
“Well, then,” he said, making a move that was much too quick for Jamie to follow. His left hand closed over Fletcher’s fingers, breaking his grip on Jamie and pulling the man’s arm back, spinning him on the stool, to face the bar. In the same moment, the cowboy brought his right hand up under Fletcher’s free arm, locking his fist against the back of O.D.’s neck. Holding Fetcher immobile in a powerful grip, he leaned his face down close to the back of Fletcher’s head, speaking softly, directly into his ear.
“Now, buddy, I think maybe you had just a mite too much to drink tonight. So I’m going to ask your friends over there to do us all a big favor and take you on home.” He tightened his grip on Fletcher, who winced painfully. “You hear me, buddy?”
“Yeah. Yeah! Jeez, cut it out! You’re breaking my arm!”
“Not yet, I’m not.”
Keeping Fletcher’s arm pinned behind him, Cal pulled him off the stool and stood him up. He could feel the man’s wobble and knew he was too drunk to cause any more real trouble tonight. Fletcher’s pals were looking for him and Cal signaled them with a lift of his head. They sized up the situation right away and came over to the bar, laughing.
“Hey, O.D.,” said the taller man, bow-legged and bearded, in faded jeans, “looks like you found yourself a little action after all.”
“Whyn’t you guys just get lost.” Fletcher was muttering, suddenly resentful, his speech thickening. “I’m doing just fine without any of your help.” The liquor had him now and between that and Cal’s powerful grip, he was completely muddled.
“I think your friend here needs a ride home,” Cal said, still holding on to Fletcher. “Think you guys can take care of that?’
“You betcha, cowboy.” We’ll get him out of here. No problem.” Cal released Fletcher, and his friends each grabbed an arm, laughing as they walked him, staggering, through the crowd and out of the bar. “A little fresh air’s all he needs,” the taller one was saying. “No harm done. Just get him out in the fresh air—” and they were gone.
Cal turned to Jamie, who’d sat frozen through the few moments it had taken him to rescue her. He saw the tears, still shining in her eyes, and wondered how any eyes could be as blue as hers. Bright blue, they were, bright, as though the sun was shining out of them, right through those tears. That bastard had really scared her. And hurt her. Cal’s glance caught the red welts forming on her arm.
“You going to be all right, ma’am?”
He saw her quick gesture, trying to wipe at the tears so he wouldn’t see them.
“Yes. Thanks. I’ll be okay.” Her heart was clattering against her ribs and her hands were shaking. “I just need a minute. I’ll be okay,” she repeated.
His eyes are so dark. So dark, they’re almost black.
She realized she was staring and she was embarrassed. She turned on the stool to face the bar.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. I just need to get out of here. My car’s outside.” She pushed another five for Milt across the top of the bar. “I just want to go home.”
“I’ll be glad to drive you, ma’am—”
“No!” Jamie’s sharp response was involuntary and she realized she’d startled him. More calmly, she said, “No, it’s all right. I’d rather go by myself. Really.”
The dark eyes grew blacker still, and the barest shade of a frown passed over Cal’s face. He straightened a bit and resettled his Stetson toward the back of his head, letting the unruly black curls fall forward
“Well, then, ma’am. If you’re sure, then I’ll just say good night.” For a moment, he seemed uncertain. Then he smiled. “And if that fellow bothers you again, you just yell in my direction, you hear? The name’s Cameron. Cal Cameron.”
He turned and walked back to the table where Harvey, grinning now, had been watching the whole thing, ready to join in if he was needed. And as he watched, Harvey could see something else that Cal couldn’t see. Harvey could see that Jamie had turned and her gaze was following Cal’s retreating figure. It was Harvey’s guess that she was interested in what she saw.
Harvey was right. Jamie couldn’t resist one long, appraising look as Cal walked away, taking in the long legs in the dark blue Wranglers, the slow and east stride—easy except for that slight limp—a stride that matched his patient, soft-spoken manner. Then she turned away, back to the bar, took a couple deep breaths, as she gradually steadied down. In a couple of minutes, she’d be able to walk out. As soon as her knees stopped shaking.
And as she calmed down, her thoughts focused on what had just happened. On Orrin Fletcher, turning up like real bad news.
What is he doing in town?
She knew it couldn’t mean anything but trouble. And he’d for sure be hooking up with Ray again. Now she really needed that hot shower. She had to scrub off the slimy feeling of Orrin’s fingers on her sore arm.
I need to get out of here.
She got off the stool and headed for the door. The image of the gallant young cowboy flashed through her head, but she didn’t allow herself to turn and look at him again.
Just more trouble.
A fresh wave of anger gripped her as she went out into the dark parking lot.
Just forget about him. Just another cowboy. You can take care of yourself, Jamie. You’ve done just fine till now. Best to keep it that way.
Only minutes had passed since Orrin had scared the hell out of her, and here she was already sticking her chin out again, putting on a tough face, convincing herself she’d be okay, that she could handle everything without help from anyone.
Just forget about him!
* * *
Cal leaned his chair precariously back against the wall again and locked his hands behind his head, tipping his hat forward over the black curls. He’d continued to stare at Jamie from across the room, watching her thoughtfully as she walked out of the place. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and he couldn’t forget what he’d seen in those blue eyes, the desperate fear and an almost violent flash of pride.
“Well, you were right, Cal,” Harvey was saying. “Didn’t take but a couple of minutes.” He pushed Cal’s glass toward him. “You want your beer?”
“Sure thing, Harv.”
Cal, preoccupied with his thoughts, didn’t touch the drink and didn’t seem to realize it was there. He was silent for a long minute.
“Harv,” he said, finally, “that girl was really scared.”
He was wondering what he’d seen, deep inside those lovely eyes. Whatever it was that was frightening her, it had made her want to get rid of him, too, and fast.
“Well, I’m not surprised,” Harvey said. “That was Orrin Fletcher with her.” He pulled a pack of Camels out of his shirt pocket and lit one up. He offered one to Cal who waved it away, his eyes still fixed on the door.
“What about him?”
“Fletcher? He’s just a two-bit trouble maker. They got him on a robbery or something, and he spent some time up in the state prison. He must have just got out.” He paused, studying Cal’s face. “I wouldn’t worry about either one of them. Way I hear it, Jamie Sundstrom is one tough cookie. She can take care of herself. And Orrin Fletcher’s just real small-time.” Harvey’s short laugh was derisive. “Only bothers little bitty girls like Jamie.”
“Hmmm.” Cal was silent for a few moments, thinking. “Yeah. That’s what I figured. Well,” he said, straightening up his chair, “I think I’m just going to head on back to the ranch now.” He stood up. His eyes had never left that door. “I’ll see you in the morning, Harv.”
“Hey, Cal.” Harvey called after him. “You never even drank your beer.”
But Cal didn’t answer him. He had already reached the door.
Chapter Two
Every shadow in the parking lot spooked her, and she wished she hadn’t parked so far from the Canyon Rim’s bright entrance. Orrin’s buddies had had plenty of time to get him away, so she ought to be safe from him, but as the music and laughter in the bar grew fainter behind her, leaving only the nighttime whirring of the crickets to keep her company, she realized she hadn’t really gotten over the scare he’d given her. When she reached her car, she checked the back seat before she opened the door, almost surprised to see that it was empty. She got in and slammed the door hard, as though hoping the noise would scare away any danger.
It was bad enough that Orrin had made such an ugly scene, but he’d also made her mask of self-assurance slip away and that cowboy had seen it happen. He’d seen her without her brave face. She was lucky, of course, that he’d showed up when he did, but she hated to have anyone see her so scared.
She needed to pull her pride back together and get her self-control firmly in place.
I refuse to worry about every cowhand that drifts into Sharperville and then out again. I thanked him—I think I thanked him—and now that’s that. Just forget about it.
She replayed the whole thing in her head—and realized she hadn’t really thanked him. Which told her just how scared she’d really been.
Couldn’t be helped.
A hot shower and a good night’s sleep. That’s all I need. Put it all behind me—a bad dream.
But Jamie’s troubles weren’t over yet. As soon as she turned the key in the ignition of the old Honda, she heard a brief sputtering sound from under the hood and then there was nothing. Nothing. Not even a brief whimper came out of the engine, and she knew what it was right away. That fuel line had finally given out.
The already exhausted shell of her self-control was beginning to break up into helpless slivers, crumbling, crumpling, giving up. She dropped her head onto her fist, clasped miserably at the top of the steering wheel. It was hard enough, just getting along from one day to the next, working so hard, always worrying about money, always trying to figure out what to do about Mandy, how to get her away from Ray and his family without doing something illegal, or something stupid, without making everything much worse. Every day seemed to be such a struggle. And then tonight, just going out for a beer and who turns up but that slimeball, Orrin Fletcher. Getting hassled by him, feeling his cold hands on her arm, his fingers grabbing her wrist, his rotten breath on her, scaring her practically mindless.
“And now, on top of everything, this old car has to pick this night to die,” she whispered into the silence that surrounded her.
She knew that crying never helped, but now, alone in the dark, the tears came anyway and she let herself give in to the piled
-up frustrations.
“It’s too much,” she repeated miserably. “It’s just too much!”
There’d be no one at the service station this late and Gordie Callister had already left the bar. Hutch and other guys hadn’t showed up yet and she sure didn’t want to walk all the way home, especially with Orrin Fletcher out and about, and anyway, it was more than seven miles beyond the other side of town to the house where she lived with her father. And there was no use calling him to come and get her. Lee Sundstrom was rarely sober any time of the day or night and chances were he was already passed out on the couch in front of the television. In any case, drunk or sober, he’d be no help to her.
Minutes passed before the tightness in her chest eased up. She lifted her head from where she had buried it in her arms and, with a last sob or two and a snuffle, she dried her face with the yellow bandana.
Okay, Jamie. Enough of this. Let’s just pull it together, one more time. You’ll figure out something.
She allowed herself one more shivery sob.
Then, clamping her teeth together resolutely, she made one last effort to start the car, even as she knew it was useless. There was no response at all and she had just slammed her hand angrily on the top of the steering wheel when she realized someone was standing next to the car, looking into the window at her side. The panic jumped right up again.
Orrin’s back!
But it wasn’t Orrin.
It was the dark-eyed cowboy.
He was resting his arm on the door’s top, above the door frame, and he was leaning his head down to the open window. “You having some trouble with your car, ma’am? Anything I can do?”
Oh, God! Did he see me crying?
And all in a rush her emotional turmoil was made more complicated as she registered the broad chest and the dark hair showing where his shirt was open at the throat, the genial, reassuring smile, and the utterly useless thought as she realized how good-looking he was. For an instant—or maybe it was more than an instant—she was in a muddle of sweet confusion and unfamiliar emotions. It was the second time tonight that this dark-eyed, handsome stranger showed up just when she really needed help.
A Cowboy's Love Page 2
