“Okay,” she said, mentally crossing her fingers. “Okay, let’s take a drive.”
“All right!” He closed her door and went around back to his side of the truck. As he climbed in, he pointed to the Oreos on the seat.
“And we even have some grub with us, so we’re fixed for dinner.”
Chapter Three
Minutes before she’d been angry and resentful, digging deep inside herself to find the strength once again to fight back against an unfair, harsh fate.
And then this man she’d just met—she couldn’t even remember his name—suggested a drive in the moonlight, and she felt sixteen years old again. No, much better than sixteen. At sixteen, she’d already known too much anger and misery. Right now, cruising along in Cal’s big old Ford pickup, she was feeling good!
She knew it was risky to take this drive, but this man beside her just felt so safe, so comfortable, so—she couldn’t put her finger on it—so right! There was something about the way he fit the seat of the truck, his long legs easy on the pedals, the way he handled the wheel. He smelled of leathers and hay and horses—a good, manly scent that belonged to honest work and open skies. The radio was picking up KSOP all the way from Salt Lake City—her favorite for country music, when she could get it. The signal was coming in clear even though the truck was already well into the canyon, climbing the steep grade that wound back and forth between the tall red-rock walls that rose up high into the moonlit sky, and Cal was humming lightly with the music.
She felt as though she was making an escape.
She felt like a girl on her first date.
He offered her the package of Oreos and she took one.
“I ought to have remembered your name,” she said, “but I’m afraid I didn’t catch it.”
“It’s Calvin Cameron. Everyone calls me Cal. Like I told you, I just hired on at Harv Jackman’s place for a while. He’s got that spread just south of town.”
“Sure, the old Winder ranch. I guess I did hear Vern Winder had sold it a couple of years ago. After his wife died. Heard he’d retired and moved down to Phoenix with his daughter.”
“That’s the one. Harvey’s the one bought it.”
“I never met the new owners. The last few years I guess I’ve sort of avoided the folks around here.” Instantly, she was afraid she’d said too much, afraid she’d just spoiled the good mood.
“Why’s that, Jamie? What’s wrong with the folks around here?”
Cal turned to look at her and she decided right away she had said too much.
“That’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it sometime.”
Maybe.
“Okay.” He looked back at the road. “Any time you feel like it.” He was tapping his hand lightly at the top of the wheel, in time to the music, and just as lightly he changed the subject.
“You know this canyon,” he said. “Any place up ahead where we can see down to the valley? Should be real pretty from up there.”
He turned again, smiling at her.
“Yes, the road will open up about a quarter of a mile from here where you can get a good view.” She hadn’t spoiled anything, after all. She took a bite of Oreo. “It’s been kind of a private place of mine ever since I was a kid. It’s where I go when I have to think or maybe if I just want to get away from everyone. I’ve always been completely alone up here.” She paused, remembering. “Except once . . . there was just this one time—”
She stopped dead, her eyes suddenly wide, staring straight ahead, up the road.
“Oh my God!”
Instinctively, unconsciously, she put one hand over Cal’s on the steering wheel, to stop him, while with the other, she pointed ahead of them to the top of a rocky escarpment that rose about thirty feet into the moonlight.
“That’s so spooky!” She could barely speak the words.
At the same moment, Cal saw what Jamie was staring at. Instantly, he brought the truck to a silent stop and switched off the headlights. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he cut the engine and the radio. “Now that’s something you don’t see too often,” he whispered into the sudden silence.
A mountain lion! Nine feet easy, from nose to tail tip. The bright moonlight shone silver on his sleek coat marked only by black tufts of fur at the point of his ears. The lion stood attentive to them, waiting, poised for their next move.
Jamie’s eyes were wide and her fingers gripped Cal’s hand tightly, still unconsciously.
“He’s watching us,” she whispered.
She was unable to take her eyes from the beautiful animal, his powerful muscles held in check, his graceful, dangerous form gleaming in the moonlight. The big cat lowered his head slightly, his eyes still fixed on them, and his tail never stopped its slow switching back and forth, back and forth. Otherwise, he remained immobile. Around them all, a soft wind stirred the leaves of the quaking aspen, their bright circles quivered against the dark, still background of the spruce trees. Jamie’s senses were quickened by the cougar’s presence and she was aware of the sharp scent of spruce.
She became aware, too, of her fingers, gripping Cal’s hand so tightly. It had been a long time since she’d held a man’s hand in hers, and as she eased her grip, she felt the warmth of his skin, the long tendons strong against her palm. She pulled her hand away, stunned by a sudden current that seemed to flow between them, an actual, physical reality, and she was embarrassed and confused by the rush of sensation that reached up through her arm to wrap itself around her heart.
If Cal noticed, he gave no sign. He just pushed his hat way back on his head and rested his chin on his hands, clasped now at the top of the steering wheel.
Cal had given no sign, but yes, of course he had noticed. How could he not? That kind of current flows two ways, and it carries its own message. But Cal had already figured out that this girl needed careful handling, not sudden moves, so instead he just rested his chin on his hands and peered up over them to watch the enormous cougar.
“That sure is one good-looking animal. Just about the biggest cat I’ve ever seen. But why did you say spooky?”
“I’ll tell you later.” Jamie was still too stunned to explain. “But shhh. Look. He’s leaving.”
The lion had taken his eyes from them, as though dismissing them, as though he was satisfied that he had fixed them safely in their place. He padded downward along the ridge, and then, in an unconcerned slow motion, mysteriously he vanished into the brush, his moon-silver coat blending into the sage and scrub oak.
The cougar’s disappearance released Jamie and she shivered, coming out of the spell of the big cat’s hypnotizing beauty.
And Cal whistled soundlessly. “Well, that’s something you can tell your grandchildren about!”
“Oh, Cal, you don’t know the half of it.”
She was still shaken by the cat’s mysterious appearance, just at that moment, just as she’d been thinking of that other time so long ago.
Cal made no move to start the engine. The warmth of her hand on his had been nice. He was eager to feel her touch again, but he knew too much about nervous animals to take a chance on scaring her away. Instead, he turned and settled himself back against the door, one arm resting on the wheel, the other on the back of the seat. He was glad of an excuse to sit quietly in the unlit interior of the truck so he could watch the way her fine, white-blond hair captured the silver flashes of cool moonlight.
She’s as beautiful as any wild animal.
“I guess I should explain.” She hesitated.
Cal said nothing; he was wishing he could reach over and touch that beautiful hair, but he remained still and just waited.
“I mean, I should explain why I said it was spooky. I’d just been saying we could go to this place that I like, sort of my own private place, where no one had ever been with me before. And then, just when I said that, I remembered something that had happened there, when I was really little, about seven or eight years old.”
She paused, remembering. She t
ook another cookie and ate the whole thing while she thought it over. Then she decided to tell him.
“I was really little,” she began, “like I said, and my dad used to let me run wild, pretty much. I don’t think he ever cared what was happening to me. I used to play up here in this canyon all the time, so I got to know it pretty well and I always felt safe here.
“But there was this one time, something had happened at home, and I ran away up here and wound up getting lost.”
She paused again, thinking about that day, and Cal waited, not asking what had frightened her. When she was ready, she went on.
“The school bus had left me off down by that clump of cedars, where the dirt road begins, where you turn off from the highway, and after the bus drove off, I started walking up the road to the house. It was just one of those freaky things; there was this rattlesnake curled up in the dirt, sunning itself I guess, and I didn’t see it till I was practically on it. Well, I knew enough to be scared of rattlesnakes and I guess I jumped a mile in the air and the snake jumped too, trying to get away from me. Well, it took off right into the field, but when I landed, I came down on a rock and twisted my ankle pretty bad.
“I was still scared the snake was going to get me, even though I’d seen it trying just as hard to get away from me, and I couldn’t run because my ankle was hurting so bad, so by the time I’d limped to the house, I was crying and calling for my daddy. I saw his car outside—we had an old beat-up Chevy convertible then—so I knew he was home, but when I came in, he was just sitting at the kitchen table, and he was drunk, of course. I tried to tell him what happened and he got real mad, and he yelled and yelled and when he tried to get up his chair fell over and that made him madder. He kept yelling about how much trouble I was and couldn’t I look where I was going, and why was everyone always picking on him. He was stumbling around and things were falling on the floor, dishes, the newspaper . . .
“I was afraid he’d come after me and I ran out. I guess I was so scared by then, I didn’t even feel my ankle hurting anymore. I came up here into the canyon, where I always felt safe. Only this time, everything was so confused and seemed so dangerous, what with the snake and my ankle hurting and beginning to swell up and my dad so mad. I lost my way and I wound up not knowing where I was. I just kept climbing and slipping and sliding around and I was getting scratched by the branches and the stones, and I lost my shoes. I guess they came loose with all the slipping and sliding around and I didn’t even stop to find them, but I just kept climbing and climbing until I found an open space, where there was this big flat rock. And I got up on the rock to rest, and I could see down into the valley. I could see the road to my house and the town all laid out in front of me, like a big picture.
“So I started to feel better, like being all alone was okay, sort of safer, even. There was something about having found this place high up over the valley, and being able to see everything spread out, I felt okay, like I’d found my own private place where I was safe and in charge.
“And right then, young as I was, I understood that I really was alone, that I’d just have to handle things by myself, without help from other people. I think I was learning something I had to know; kids who aren’t being cared for right have to learn to take care of themselves.
“Anyway, it was just around then, when I was feeling better, I heard this sort of soft breathing behind me. And when I looked up, this huge cat was standing there on the ridge. I just froze and it stayed there, absolutely silent, for a long time, watching me.”
She paused, remembering, and then repeated, “For a long time.”
The next part was harder to describe.
“But it’s funny, Cal. As scared as I was, I had the feeling that that big cat was just like me, that we were sort of related, somehow. Like he was there to tell me something. And here’s what it was: he was all alone and I was all alone, and just like he could take care of himself, I could take care of myself, too. And like we were, somehow, together. Almost like we were friends or something . . .
It was hard to go on as she struggled to find the words.
“I don’t know how to explain it. Like I didn’t need to be afraid of him.”
She needed to be silent for a few moments as she realized she just couldn’t express the mystery of the experience.
“But anyway,” she said at last, “the cougar never did anything. He just watched me for a while—it seemed to be a long time, but maybe it was only a minute or two—and then he went away. Didn’t even twitch his tail or anything, just quietly walked on.”
She was suddenly aware of how long she’d been talking.
This sounds so bizarre. He must think I’m crazy. But talking about this—talking to him—it feels so good.
She took a breath and went on.
“So that was it. I did get myself back home again, eventually. I kept looking for my shoes, all the way back, but I never did find them, and I was scratched up and when I told my dad what I’d seen, he was so angry, said I was nothing but trouble, and he really walloped me. He said I was making it up about the cougar. He said anyone as much trouble as I was should have been eaten up by a cougar. So I shut up and I never said anything about it again.”
Another deep breath.
“Until this very minute,” she said. “With you.”
She was swept by a wave of shyness and a sudden sense that she’d made herself very vulnerable.
In the shadows of the truck’s cab, it was too dark for her to see the response that lay deep in Cal’s black eyes.
“Lucky that cat wasn’t hungry,” he said. “Though I’ve never heard of a cougar attacking a child unless he wasn’t able to find his regular game. Like if he was injured, or something like that, and wasn’t able to hunt. There’s plenty of fat game around and as long as he’d had his fill of deer, or had gotten a calf on the range, he wouldn’t have bothered you.”
“I suppose.” She laughed a little. “And I guess I was kind of a scrawny kid at that. Anyway, that was a long time ago, but the funny thing is, every time I come into this canyon, I think of those shoes I lost, and I keep looking for them. Like I still expect to get a licking for losing them. Like maybe they’re going to turn up under a bush or behind a rock or something. Little red tennis shoes. Red and white. I guess some gopher or something took them away—some pack rat or a hawk—who knows what, but they just disappeared. You’d think by now I’d have forgotten them. But still, it always crosses my mind every time I come up here, like maybe that cougar decided to take them instead of me. I don’t know. It’s just that I keep needing to find my shoes. Isn’t that silly?”
“And you never saw another lion up here?”
“Never until this one, just now. They’re around, I know; the ranchers are always keeping an eye out for them. Just tonight I heard some talk about Al Wideman seeing a big cougar a couple of days ago and he thinks it took one of his calves. Who knows, maybe it’s this same one. But what’s so strange is how I was just remembering that time, when I was little, and then just at the same minute I thought of that other cougar, there’s this big cat staring us right in the face.”
Just tonight, when I came here with you. Like magic.
“And until tonight,” she said, “I never said anything about it to anyone. Figured they’d only call me a liar, like my dad did. But somehow, in my kid mind, I thought that cougar had some special meaning for me, only I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. Is that weird or what?”
“Not weird for a kid,” Cal said. “Kids think that way. But those big cats are dangerous and—well, like I said, you were lucky.”
“I guess you’re right. I guess I really was in a lot more trouble that day than I realized. Still, no cat up here has ever done me any harm, which is more than I can say for the two-legged animals down in the valley.”
Cal remembered what Harvey had told him. He didn’t want to pry, but he sure did want to know more about this beautiful young woman. He could still feel the press of
her hand on his; that mysterious electric current hadn’t flowed in one direction only and he wondered if she’d felt it, too. If she had—
He straightened around on the seat and started up the engine.
“Why don’t you and me just ride on up to your special place you were telling me about. You can show me the view of the town from up there and fill me in on the folks who live there.”
He started the truck on its climb up the steep grade.
“Okay,” she said. “I like looking at the valley and the whole town and everything just spread out below. It all seems a lot more manageable from this distance.”
The radio was on again, and the canyon ahead of them looked so friendly in the truck’s headlights.
It really is funny, how the littlest thing can turn your whole mood around.
Chapter Four
The narrow canyon road twisted suddenly, widening onto a clear space that was bounded by clumps of scrub oak and tall spruces and, on one side, a steep cliff wall. Far below them, the broad valley stretched into the distance with the highway running straight through it and the sparse lights of Sharperville winking up at them. At the base of the cliff, the layered red rock formed a natural bench, broad enough to sit back comfortably against the stone.
Jamie climbed onto her favorite roost and pulled her legs up under her.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I never brought anyone here before.
Cal had deliberately lagged behind so he could watch her scramble up the layers of rock, where she made such a pretty, moonlit picture, with her legs crossed, fitting so neatly against the grooved stone. A gentle wind, soft through the canyon, lifted her fine hair and moved it from her shoulders as she looked out over the valley. The air had become nighttime-cold, and Cal realized she was bare-armed and her orange vest was only a thin covering.
A Cowboy's Love Page 4
