He headed for the garage where he’d had the good sense to put the truck last night, and disengaged the heater from the engine block, then went out on a scouting trip.
He drove the ranch roads slowly, keeping an eye out for early cows that might be calving. He and Deck had been trying to get all the breeding cows into pastures closer to the house since the weather was supposed to turn, but some of them were wily old sneaks that managed to elude the men. They would calve out in the snow somewhere and the calves would freeze to death. On the radio, the weatherman was talking about a blizzard developing. One look through his windshield confirmed it. Small flakes like this usually meant they were going to get lots of snow.
Deck was at the barn when he got back and they went down to the pastures to feed.
“Morning.” His brother’s greeting was normal, but the speculative look he aimed at Marty wasn’t.
“Morning.” He ignored the look. “This looks like it could get ugly.”
“Probably will.” Deck heaved bales of alfalfa off the back of the truck. “So how’s your bride settling in?”
“Fine.”
Deck raised his eyebrows. “You all right?”
“Fine.” The note of concern in his brother’s voice nearly undid him, and Marty set his jaw. Deck had been intimately acquainted with grief since their sister had been killed; he, more than anyone, knew the hell in which a part of Marty had lived since Lora and the baby died. Marty swallowed. “Let it be for now.”
Deck nodded his head. “Okay.”
They finished feeding and then spent the rest of the morning chopping ice on the dam before heading to their respective homes.
By the time he’d put the heater on the truck’s engine at the house, his fingers were numb and clumsy with cold. He stomped the snow off his jeans and boots on the porch but when he reached for the doorknob, it wouldn’t open. It took him a full minute of fumbling with the knob before he realized it was locked. And by that time he could see Juliette hurrying toward the door.
She pulled it wide and stepped back so he could enter.
“We never lock doors around here,” he barked at her.
“I was here alone with two small children,” she said, tilting her little chin in the air. “I’m not accustomed to leaving my doors unlocked.”
Damn. He hadn’t intended to start off the day on this note. He knew he owed her an apology, and instead here he was yelling at her. “I was just surprised,” he said, peeling off his gloves. His fingers were white with cold and his legs felt numb, too. He hadn’t been dressed for this kind of weather when he’d early that morning. “Sorry I shouted.”
She was staring at his hands. “That doesn’t look good. Is that how frostbite starts?”
His clothes were soaked now that the snow was melting and he shivered. “It’ll be all right. I’m going to take a hot shower.” He started forward, then stopped again, watching her face as he spoke. “We have to talk.”
“I know.” But her gaze slid away from his. “Would you like me to get you a hot lunch while you’re showering?”
He nodded, grateful that she was making an effort. “That would be nice.”
He was halfway up the stairs before he noticed her little dog bouncing along behind him. He started to holler that the damn dog couldn’t stay in the house, but then he realized he couldn’t, in good conscience, put the critter in the barn where the other dogs holed up when it got this cold. He was just too little; he’d freeze. And if it made Juliette feel more like this was her home, he supposed he could get used to having one small dog in the house. “Just stay out of my way,” he growled at the mutt.
When he came out of the shower, the dog was lying on the bed, right in the middle of the clean shirt he’d tossed there before he went into the bathroom. He swore it had a smile on its face and he scowled, yanking his shirt out from under it and sending it rolling end over end across the bed. “Scram, mutt.”
The critter leaped off the bed and its nails clicked on the wood floor as it raced around the foot of the bed, but it didn’t scram. Instead, it came to stand in front of him, tail waving in a perky arch over its back.
It tagged along at his heels as he walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Juliette had a mountain of grilled cheese sandwiches waiting for him. She’d made tomato soup from a can as well, and she poured him a mug of hot coffee. The baby was in its little cradle on the counter again and for a second he marveled at how content the little guy seemed to be most of the time. Cheyenne had been a fussy baby; he could remember taking turns with Lora walking the screaming infant for hours at night.
“How’s Cheyenne been?” he asked abruptly.
The question brought the first smile to her face that he’d seen since yesterday morning. “Great,” she said. “We built log houses and played with dolls this morning.” She went to the door of the living room and called Cheyenne, then took a seat across from him as his daughter bounced into the room.
“Hi, Daddy!” She ran to him and threw her arms around him exuberantly. “Me ’n’ Juliette played all morning.”
“Sounds like fun.” He kissed her and set her in her seat.
“An’ I fed that baby!”
Her little face was beaming, and he knew she expected some comment, so he said, “Good,” even though the very word baby made him flinch.
Involuntarily he glanced at the infant seat, still facing away from him. Thank God the kid was quiet. It made it easier to pretend he didn’t exist.
“What’s this?” Cheyenne was sniffing suspiciously at the tomato soup. “I don’t like it.”
“Tomato soup,” said Juliette. “I made sandwiches, too. Do you like cheese?”
Cheyenne nodded. “But I’m not eating that soup.”
His daughter crammed two sandwiches down her throat in the time it took him to eat his first one, then demanded to get down and go play. Not feeling like arguing, he merely nodded, and she disappeared.
“You may be excused,” Juliette called after her.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I guess her table manners need some work.”
“Eventually.” Juliette looked across the table at him. “What did you do with her during the day…before?”
“Anything I could,” he told her. “Lora’s mother and her sister Eliza each took her one day a week. Silver’s been doing that, too, since she and Deck got married. I hired a sitter sometimes; one of the hands’ wives kept her other times. The rest of the time, she had to come along with me.”
“Will she miss that?”
“Not a chance. She hated being dragged around. Although she still can visit her grandmother and her aunt once in a while. I’m sure you’ll need a break occasionally.”
Juliette gestured toward the window. “It’s really cold out today.”
“The weatherman says it’s supposed to stay cold for a while.” He shook his head. “I’ll have to go back out this afternoon.”
“But isn’t that dangerous?”
He couldn’t prevent the smile that curled at the corners of his mouth. “If I stopped doing everything on this ranch that was dangerous, I’d be sitting around the house all day.”
“What do you have to do?”
“When the snow gets too deep for the cattle to get to the grass, we feed bales as well as cake.”
“Cake?” She looked totally bewildered.
“Not birthday cake.” He grinned. “It’s a supplemental feed.”
Her eyes still looked worried, but she didn’t pursue the subject.
He indicated the boxes still sitting unpacked on the counter. “Are you planning to finish settling in today?”
“I suppose.” Uncertainty colored her tone. “Maybe you should make me a list of things to be done that you think are most pressing.”
He stared at her. “Why? The whole house needs help.” He shook his head. “You can start wherever you like and do whatever you want. I’m not particular.” Then he remembered. “Except that I’m not
real fond of blue.”
She looked down at the cornflower-blue wool sweater she was wearing with a pair of tan slacks. “You’re not?”
He laughed. “I don’t mean like that. I mean as in redecorating. Color schemes.”
“Oh.” She considered. “Not a problem. I can live without blue rooms.”
“Good.” His relief was heartfelt. Then he looked at her again. The blue sweater made her eyes a deep, intense color that was striking with her fair skin, and her cheeks were a pretty pink. She’d pinned her hair up again; it suddenly struck him that he’d never seen her with it down.
That thought invariably led to others and he shifted in his chair as his jeans became uncomfortably tight. “You look very pretty today,” he said.
“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet; she studied her coffee mug.
He reached across the corner of the table and took her hand. “I’m sorry we got off to such a bad start yesterday.”
Her cheeks colored and he knew she was thinking about why they’d gotten off to that bad start.
“Let’s talk tonight.” He could tell from the look in her eyes that she knew he wanted to do more than just talk, and he kept his gaze steady as he waited for her answer.
Her whole body went still and for a long moment there wasn’t a sound in the kitchen. “All right.” It was a whisper.
Her nearness was having a powerful effect on his body. He stood, pushing back his chair without letting go of her hand, and pulled her to her feet. She placed both of her hands flat against his chest but he circled her slender body with his arms and pressed her close enough that she couldn’t miss feeling what she did to him.
He made a sound deep in his throat and bent his head, searching for her lips. Her mouth was passive beneath his at first and he forced himself to gentle the hungry edge that urged him to devour every sweet inch of her. Her mouth quickly softened in the generous response he was beginning to expect, and he used his tongue to deepen the kiss. Her little hands gradually slid up his chest and around his neck, stroking the skin there and making him shudder with need.
He tore his mouth from hers. “I want you,” he growled.
She bent her head and let her forehead rest against his broad chest, and he could feel her breathing as heavily as he was.
He held her a moment more, then lifted her chin and kissed her once, hard, before letting her go. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said.
He struggled into the layers of clothing that would protect him from the worst of the bitter cold again, although his body was so warm he figured he could walk to the barn buck naked and not even notice the chill.
Juliette decided to tackle the kitchen first, since it looked as if that was where she’d be spending a good part of every day. She thought she’d made too many sandwiches, but to her everlasting shock, Marty had eaten every single thing she’d placed on the table. She’d watched him tuck away the food, bemused, wondering whether he’d have eaten more if she’d set it in front of him.
Her body still tingled where he’d held her against him. Was she stupid to be planning on sleeping with him after the misunderstanding that still lay between them? Although Marty had said that this was a permanent decision on his part, before they ever married, she couldn’t help but wonder if he still felt that way.
He hadn’t so much as looked at Bobby, even when Cheyenne had talked about him. How could she make a family with a man who couldn’t stand to be around her son? Even though she understood his reasons and the pain that must haunt him, it still hurt when he rejected her child. It felt like a rejection of her, which she supposed it was, in a way.
The wind still howled around the corners of the snug ranch house but now the tiny ping of ice crystals bouncing off the windows joined the sound. Well, she wasn’t going anywhere today, that was for sure. So she might as well get something done in this house.
She went into the living room to see if Cheyenne wanted to “help,” a trick she’d quickly discovered kept the little girl too interested and occupied to be objectionable, but the child was sprawled across the sofa, sound asleep. Smiling, Juliette covered her with an afghan and let her sleep.
She started with basics, scrubbing the walls and the floor and tossing the rugs into the washing machine. She put Bobby down for a nap, then emptied the refrigerator after putting the mountain of newspapers scattered on the counter into bags for Marty to take wherever they went to recycle around here. She washed the counters and then started emptying out the kitchen drawers, one by one, and reorganizing after she’d thoroughly scrubbed them as well.
Cheyenne came into the kitchen almost two hours later, yawning, her hair a messy tangle of curls sticking out every which way.
“Hello, sleepyhead,” said Juliette.
Cheyenne ignored her, climbing into a kitchen chair and laying her head on the table.
Juliette went to the table and knelt down beside the child. She wanted badly to cuddle the little girl, but she almost could see tiny porcupine prickles raised and ready. “Cheyenne?”
The child flopped her head over on her arms so that she was looking at Juliette.
“I thought you and I could plan something special to do each afternoon while Bobby is napping. What would you like to do today?”
Cheyenne thought about it for a minute, then slowly sat up, and in a queenly manner that had Juliette hiding her smile, the little girl raised her arms for a hug. When Juliette put her arms around the fragile body, Cheyenne clung surprisingly tightly for a long moment before they each drew back, and Juliette felt tears prickling at the backs of her eyes. She was suddenly fiercely determined to make a difference in this child’s life, to give her a normal childhood and all the love she had within her.
“I wanna make cookies,” Cheyenne said.
Five
The rest of the afternoon went surprisingly smoothly. They made no-bake cookies with peanut butter and oatmeal. Cheyenne helped for a while and then played with Inky, who quickly grew tired of being wrapped in a blanket and hid beneath the couch. Then she got out modeling clay and played at the kitchen table while Juliette continued to clean the kitchen. Bobby awoke and needed a bottle, and Juliette allowed Cheyenne to feed him for a while. He seemed fascinated by his new big sister, his large blue eyes following her every movement, and he wriggled and squealed when she talked to him.
Juliette threw the rugs in the dryer and took down the curtains, washing them, the tablecloth and all the dish towels she could find in a second load. By five she had everything but the big walk-in pantry reorganized and she was reasonably sure she could find things now. It already felt more like “her” kitchen.
She wasn’t sure what time Marty would want dinner, so she’d defrosted a roast and stuck it in the oven with carrots and potatoes. She mixed up biscuits but held off baking them until he came in, since they’d only take a few minutes.
By six-thirty, Cheyenne was getting defiant and cranky. Juliette decided they might as well eat, and she would feed Marty whenever he showed up. What was he thinking, to make a young child wait so long for dinner? The answer was easy. He probably wasn’t thinking about it at all. He’d essentially hired her to take care of his child and his house so he could devote more time to the ranch. Still, she thought, he was going to have to get in the habit of letting her know when he’d be coming in.
Cheyenne’s temperament improved so markedly after the meal that Juliette was astonished, and she made a mental note to give the child a snack the next day. Bobby was much happier when he ate and slept frequently and regularly, so it stood to reason that Cheyenne might benefit from the same routine.
She took the child up to the bathroom and ran her a bath, listening for Marty, but he still hadn’t come in. While Cheyenne bathed, Juliette bathed Bobby in a small tub in the sink, then fed him a bottle while the little girl dried and dressed. He was sound asleep by then, so she put him down for the night. After Cheyenne’s bath her eyes were growing heavy-lidded but Juliette suspected she’d m
eet with mass resistance if she were to suggest bedtime. Instead, she asked Cheyenne if she could read her some stories.
She read two books, and by the time she got halfway through the second one, the little girl was fast asleep. Juliette eased her into bed and tucked the covers around her. As she did so, she heard the back door open, and Inky gave one small yip. She hesitated a moment, then went down to meet her husband.
Marty had icicles hanging from his hat, and his clothes were completely covered in white. He groaned as he eased off his gloves and cursed beneath his breath. She hurried forward and began unbuttoning his outer coat, knowing from watching him fumble at lunchtime that his fingers would be too numb to manage the buttons with any ease. He took off his hat and hung it up, then tossed everything else into the tub in the laundry room except for his coat. Juliette reached up and pulled off the balaclava that had protected his face, but when she looked up at him, the white patches around his eyes and nose alarmed her.
She bit back a protest. He’d been doing this long before he’d met her so he must know how far he could push his luck without actually doing any frostbite damage. He leaned back against the wall and indicated his boots. “Could you…?”
She nodded. As he lifted one foot, she knelt and began to tug at it. To her surprise the first boot came off fairly easily. The second one was a little tougher, but finally it came off, too. Marty winced and hobbled a few steps. “My feet feel like two blocks of wood,” he said.
Juliette eased her arm beneath his shoulder. “Will it help if you lean on me?”
He draped one arm heavily over her shoulder. “Thanks.” He looked around as they moved through the kitchen. “Where’s Cheyenne? And the baby?”
Though the last was clearly an afterthought, she didn’t call attention to it. “They’re asleep. I waited dinner as long as I could, but I think it’s important for both of them to have routines.”
Marty grimaced. “I should have called and told you to go ahead. Sorry. We had a difficult birth with one of the older cows and I forgot what time it was.”
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