Tall, Dark & Western

by Anne Marie Winston

  Cheyenne didn’t argue for once. As Juliette took off toward the gate, Cheyenne shouted after her, “Get a rope from the barn!”

  Juliette stopped in her tracks, wheeled and ran to the barn to collect the rope before following the calf’s tracks up the hill and away from the house. She shook her head ruefully. A four-year-old who’d grown up out here knew more about handling cattle than she did. Sad state of affairs.

  She couldn’t even ride. Never having been around horses or cows in her entire life, the large creatures made her nervous. But she’d asked Marty to teach her to ride in the summer when calving and branding was finished. If she was going to live out here, she was going to have to learn to help outside. Marty didn’t seem to expect it, and though he talked to her frequently about what he did during the day, he had never invited her to come out and help. Maybe he thought she didn’t want to.

  She was breathing hard when she finally slogged through the deep snow to the top of the hill. It was in the midtwenties, not terribly cold, and she was sweating inside her layers of outdoor clothing.

  The calf stood in a little stand of juniper trees, looking around uncertainly. As she approached, he snuffled and took a couple of steps backward.

  Oh, what she’d give to be able to throw the rope she held! And to be on a horse. The calf looked bigger than it had before, and she could see that if it gave her trouble, she wasn’t going to be strong enough to hold it. Darn it! It looked so easy when Marty caught one of these and easily flipped it to the ground. Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea. She just should have noted the way the calf had gone and waited for Marty.

  “Here, baby,” she said softly. “Are you going to come to me? I just want to take you home to Mama.”

  She fashioned a noose with the rope and approached a few more steps, but the calf moved away again so she stopped. Waited. Tried again. Waited again.

  Now that she wasn’t moving, she was starting to cool down. Fast.

  She gritted her teeth. Time was passing and she was getting concerned about leaving Cheyenne alone in the house with Bobby. Though she no longer feared that her stepdaughter would harm her son, Cheyenne wasn’t big enough to take care of him without help, though she thought she could. Juliette’s biggest fear was that she would try to get him out of his crib if he woke and started to fuss.

  She was starting to shiver now. She’d worn clothes for playing in the snow for a half hour or so, not the serious protection that the men wore for working out.

  “All right,” she said aloud. “That’s it. I’m taking you home, you brat.” She walked toward the calf, which backed away again. But this time Juliette didn’t stop. Marching right up to the baby, she slipped the rope around its neck and turned back the way she had come.

  He didn’t realize she was missing until he went in for lunch. Cheyenne was at the kitchen table coloring on a big piece of butcher paper that had been taped to the tabletop. Hmm, no lunch in sight. And he was starving.

  “Hey, sweet pea.” Marty snatched her out of her seat and rubbed his stubbled jaw against her neck while she screamed and giggled. When he set her down again, he said, “Where’s Juliette?” He figured she was probably taking care of the baby and had forgotten it was almost lunchtime.

  Cheyenne was coloring again. “She went to catch a calf.”

  “She…what?” He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “Tell me again.”

  “She went to catch the calf. You know, the one that runned the other way.”

  His heart almost stopped. “You mean, when we were feeding?” Good God, that had been well over an hour ago.

  Cheyenne nodded. “Uh-huh.” She looked up. “She told me to come in and wait for her. Maybe you better go get her, Daddy.”

  “Good idea.” Marty was already moving toward the door. A sudden thought stopped him and he knew another moment’s pure panic. “Did she take Bobby with her?”

  His daughter looked scornful as if he should have known better. “No. He’s napping. I listened but he hasn’t waked up yet.”

  Relief so intense his knees felt weak rushed through him. “Okay. If he wakes up, talk to him but do not take him out of the crib.”

  He waited one second more until Cheyenne grudgingly nodded, then he was out the door. Deck had gone home to have lunch and cuddle his new daughter so he would be no help with a search.

  Unless he didn’t find her right away. The thought was too frightening to contemplate. He fired up the truck and tore around the corral to the gate where the calves had scattered.

  And he prayed. Please, God, don’t let anything happen to Juliette…. He needed her so much. She was fragile and soft and always welcoming, and she needed him, too, in a way that Lora never had. Lora had been his helpmeet, his equal, confident, capable, strong and sure. But…

  Juliette was all those things, too, in a smaller package, and he’d come to realize that a part of him was very primitive, very chauvinistic. He liked the way she turned to him and accepted his protection and aid. He liked the way she felt against him, small and feminine and so very, very precious. She was unique and special, and he sometimes wondered how he’d gotten so lucky.

  And fear grabbed him by the throat again. Keep her safe. Please keep her safe.

  He realized he had his eyes squeezed tightly shut and he opened them, not wanting to waste another minute of time that he could be searching.

  And there in the snow was one thin line of hoof prints turning off in the opposite direction from the group he and Deck had thought were all rounded up. Damn. How had he missed that? Interspersed with the calf’s prints were small, almost child-size boot prints.

  And both sets only pointed in one direction. Away from the ranch buildings.

  His heart skipped a beat. Oh, God, please let her be all right. He alternated between cussing her lack of sense and praying for her safety as he drove up the rise of the hill as fast as he dared in four-wheel-drive. It was overcast, but at least it wasn’t windy, and the tracks were plainly visible. He crested the hill and started down the other side.

  And finally, there in the distance, was a tiny figure. Upright. Moving in his direction with the calf on a rope following along.

  He closed his eyes for a second as he stepped on the gas, relief so intense he narrowed his eyes against the sting of tears. She was all right!

  As he came closer, he stepped on the brake and stopped the truck, hurling himself out before the engine had fully died.

  “What the hell did you think you were doing?” he yelled as he advanced on his wife. The calf behind her took offense to his tone and planted its feet, jerking Juliette to a stop. But Marty didn’t even notice. He rushed to her side and grabbed her in a crushing embrace. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”

  He dropped his head and found her mouth, kissing her hard, frantically pushing his tongue into her mouth, almost sagging with relief as she stirred and turned her face more fully up to his. He changed the angle of the kiss, then pressed quick, hard kisses to her throat, her cheeks, her chin. “I’m so damned glad to see you, angel,” he muttered.

  The calf was pulling at the rope, almost tugging Juliette from his arms, and Marty took the rope in one hand. He kept the other firmly around her, feeling the warmth of her breath in the hollow of his neck where his jacket still hung open because he’d forgotten to zip it when he’d come out of the house again.

  “I—I’m s-s-sorry.” Her voice was strained. “I thought…I was afraid the c-calf would die, so I just went after it.”

  He realized then that she was shaking, that her face and her nose were bitter cold. And that scared him all over again. “I’ve got to get you warm.” He dragged both calf and wife to the truck, setting Juliette inside and lifting the calf in. “Hold him.” Then he jumped behind the wheel and flipped the heater on high as he turned the truck and headed back to the house.

  At the corral he stopped just long enough to open the gate and shove the calf inside. A lone heifer stood by the fence, and
she rushed over to take charge of her little runaway as Marty lifted Juliette out of the truck and carried her to the house.

  He shouldered open the back door and set her on her feet in the utility room as he kicked the door shut with one booted foot. He ripped off his heavy gloves and dropped them and began tearing open the zipper and fastenings of her coat, unwinding the scarf from around her throat, throwing everything on the floor as he peeled away her clothing.

  His fingers were shaking, and it wasn’t from the cold. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing pulse. She was here. She was safe.

  Cheyenne came running into the room. “You’re back! Did you get the calf?”

  Marty nodded. “She did. And now she’s going to get a hot shower.”

  “Is Bobby awake yet?” It was the first time Juliette had spoken since he’d brought her in.

  Cheyenne nodded. “I told him you were lost.”

  Marty pulled Juliette into the bathroom.

  “Wait!” she said. “I have to get Bobby.”

  Grimly he held her by one wrist as he turned the shower on and adjusted the hot water. “You have to get in that shower and warm up,” he said, starting on the buttons of her shirt.

  “But—”

  “I’ll get the kid, okay?”

  She ceased struggling, and the hissing of the shower water was the only sound in the heavy silence as her big blue eyes searched his face for a long moment. Finally she nodded. “All right. I’ll hurry.”

  He was so thankful that nothing had happened to her…so thankful. He reached for her, putting his hands at her waist and dragging her to him, then sliding his arms around her to pull her tight against his body. “God, you scared me,” he muttered into her hair.

  She wrapped her arms around his back and burrowed against him. “I scared me, too,” she confessed. “It was a stupid thing to do. I’m sorry.”

  He drew back after a moment, his gaze traveling down her body where her shirt hung open. The swell of her breasts was visible beneath the scant covering of a red lacy bra, and he trailed a finger down her throat to the valley between her breasts. “Do me a favor and put this back on after your shower.”

  She smiled, stretching up on tiptoe to press a soft, moist kiss just below his earlobe, and he felt the whisk of her tongue across his sensitive flesh. “Anything for you.”

  He shuddered. “Brat. Just wait till tonight.”

  “With pleasure.” She smiled even more widely as he released her and then spoiled the effect by shivering convulsively.

  “Get in that shower and stay in there until I come back,” he ordered. And with that, he shut the bathroom door in her face. He’d have liked nothing more than to climb right into that shower with her and wrap her around him right there while the water beat down on them and he warmed her from the inside out, but he had things to see to.

  A baby to deal with.

  He walked into the kitchen. No Cheyenne. She wasn’t in the living room, either, and he began to get concerned as he heard Bobby crying. He would tan her little hide if she’d disobeyed him and was trying to handle that baby. The thought made his feet move faster and he took the steps two at a time.

  Normally he’d have hesitated to enter the room where Bobby slept, but anxiety and adrenaline pushed him into the room and across to the crib before he gave himself time to think about it. Cheyenne was standing near the head of the crib, waving a stuffed animal in the air and talking to the baby, but his volume only increased.

  Marty leaned over the crib and looked down at the tiny, red-faced occupant. “Hey, little man, what’s the matter?”

  Bobby stopped crying. His eyes widened. Whether it was the unfamiliar face in his field of vision or Marty’s deep voice was debatable.

  And then he smiled. Not a tentative smile, but a wriggling, fist-waving, feet-kicking, face-splitting grin. He opened his mouth and squealed happily.

  “He likes you, Daddy!” Cheyenne said.

  “Yeah.” It was a whisper. Marty’s throat grew tight. A shaft of the familiar pain speared his heart, but he forced himself to reach down and slide his big hands beneath the baby, lifting him up and settling him against his chest. The little body felt firm and warm and cuddly, and after arching his back and looking into Marty’s face, the baby snuggled in as if he belonged there.

  Maybe he did. Marty blinked, trying to clear vision suddenly suspiciously blurred. This child was a member of his family, his child now. Bobby needed him.

  “He prob’ly wants his diaper changed.” Cheyenne spoke with the worldly assurance of one who’d seen this ritual many times.

  Marty nodded. He carried the baby over to the changing table and laid him down, looking fully for the first time at his features. Blond hair, blue eyes with the look of his mother, a dimple in one soft cheek…he was a pretty cute little critter.

  He told him so, and Bobby wriggled and squealed some more. Old habits came back more easily than he’d expected, and in moments he had the little guy clean and dry. “Let’s go down and find your mama,” he said, scooping Bobby up and settling him in his arm. The little guy must be almost five months old now, and though he still couldn’t sit up alone, he was pretty good at holding himself upright in Marty’s arm, looking about with interest as they descended the stairs with Cheyenne dancing along ahead of them.

  Despite her promise Juliette rushed through her shower, turning the water off as soon as she dared. She had just finished toweling herself dry and had wrapped herself in one of the man-size bath sheets when the bathroom door opened again and Marty came in.

  He was carrying Bobby.

  She stared, tried to speak, and stared some more. Bobby was looking around from his new vantage point, clearly pleased with himself, and when he saw her he squealed happily.

  “I changed him.” Marty sounded as if it were an everyday occurrence. “And Cheyenne’s making open-face turkey sandwiches for lunch.”

  That got her attention. “What?”

  “Well,” he said, “She’s buttering the bread. I told her I’d come and help her in a minute. Why don’t you go put on something warm?”

  She nodded, still staring at him holding her son. “Do you, uh, want me to take him?”

  Marty shrugged. “Nah. I’ll put him in his seat until you get back down here.” He made no move to hand over Bobby.

  She was strangely reluctant to leave her son with Marty. He didn’t really like him, after all, and though she understood the pain that plagued her husband, she was uneasy about asking him to care for her son.

  The thoughts must have shown on her face because Marty sent her a gentle smile, his blue eyes warm and…loving? “It’s all right,” he said. “Go get dressed.”

  So she did. But as she climbed the stairs and put on warm, dry clothing, she couldn’t forget the look in his eye. He’d never looked at her quite that way before. She would have remembered if he had.

  Was it possible that Marty could grow to love her? She was almost afraid to hope. Life had knocked the pins from beneath her once before, when the husband she’d loved had died without ever even seeing their child. She’d known when she married Marty that he still loved his first wife’s memory, and she’d resigned herself to it.

  But that look in his eye…

  Late in the afternoon she put Cheyenne down for a nap after reading her a story. Bobby was lying on his back on a blanket in the living room where they’d been playing on the floor with him. Inky lounged beside him, warily eyeing the flailing limbs. She walked upstairs with Cheyenne and tucked her in.

  When she came back down the stairs, she was carrying a basket of towels to be washed. She glanced into the living to check on Bobby, who could only roll one way so far—

  And stopped in her tracks.

  Marty lay on the floor beside her son. He was propped on one elbow and one large hand was splayed across Bobby’s midsection, lightly rubbing. Bobby had his neck stretched back and his gaze was fixed on the man who loomed over him.

&
nbsp; Tears ran down Marty’s face.

  Her heart began to beat so fast she thought she might faint. Slowly she set down the basket of laundry and moved across the room to kneel at his side. At the touch of her hand, Marty turned from the baby and sat up, reaching for her. She folded her arms around his head and hugged him to her breast as his shoulders shook.

  It seemed forever that they sat that way, until he was quiet against her.

  “I—I’m so, so sorry,” he said hoarsely.

  “I’m sorry, too,” she said quietly, stroking his back and running her fingers through his thick curls.

  He drew back a little and looked at her. “I should have been up front with you from the very beginning.”

  “And I should have told you I came with baggage,” she said. “But we’re working it out. It’s going to be okay.”

  “It’s going to be more than okay,” Marty turned and looked down at Bobby again. “How long before he can sit up?”

  She shrugged. “The books say six months, which means he’s got three or four weeks yet. Why?”

  He smiled, his dimples flashing, and she was staggered by the uninhibited happiness in his morning-sky eyes. “Because once he can sit up, I can put him up on a horse.”

  “In your dreams!” But she was laughing. “I guess he can learn to ride at the same time his mother does.”

  Marty’s face sobered at her words. “Promise me you’ll never go far on foot again.”

  She could see the shadows that haunted his eyes, and she nodded. “I won’t. It was…an impulsive decision. I was afraid that calf would get lost and freeze to death.”

  “It probably would have.” He cradled her against him, and they were silent for a long time as they watched Bobby squirming around on the blanket. Finally Marty cleared his throat. “If you move him into the nursery, we’ll have a guest room again.”