A Rainbow in Paradise (4 page)

"She didn't need to," Chris cut in. "I called
him as soon as I heard you were in town. He's really looking
forward to seeing you again."

Eden gasped. "You called him, too?"

"He'll be coming into town tomorrow evening.
I thought we might go out to dinner together. You know, sort of a
double date."

"He still wants to see me?"

Chris nodded. "He seemed quite eager. I'd say
you made a fairly strong impression."

"He wanted to see me," she said again,
clarifying the point. She had almost convinced herself that the
power she had felt between them was her imagination—or at least,
one-sided.

"He asked me to call him whenever you were in
the area," Chris added, strengthening his point.

Eden gave him a searching look, narrowing her
eyes. "You're not making this up as you go along?"

Chris laughed. "Not at all. I think Logan was
really impressed with you, Eden. But then again..." He gave his
wife a playful look. "What's not to like? Why, if I were
single..."

"Watch yourself, McAllister." Sarah poked him
in the ribs, drawing her brows together in an exaggerated frown,
but Chris chuckled as he caught her elbow and leaned forward to
nuzzle Sarah's neck. The casual teasing showed Eden more than
anything else how much warmth and respect the couple shared. If
she'd had any doubts about Sarah's marriage, they instantly
evaporated.

Withdrawing from her husband's embrace, Sarah
asked, "So how about tomorrow evening, Eden? Want to paint the town
with Logan and Chris and me?"

Eden chuckled at the idea of painting tiny
Rainbow Rock, but nodded anyway. It might be worth seeing what
Logan had in mind. "Sure. Why not?"

"We'll count on it, then," Chris said. He
pushed his chair away from the table. "What do we have for dinner,
wife?"

Sarah answered sweetly, "Whatever you're
cooking, husband," and Eden smiled, reassured to see her friend so
comfortable and at ease. If Sarah could find happiness, maybe it
wasn't too late for her, either.

* * * * *

Logan stood holding the telephone receiver in
his hand, struggling again with the internal conflict that had
occupied him for weeks, every time he thought of Eden—an event that
occurred far too often for his peace of mind. The dilemma seemed
unresolvable.
Why am I doing this
? he asked himself.
Because I want to, that's why,
he answered.
Isn't
that reason enough
? Yes, he needed to begin thinking about
marriage and no, Eden Grant was not a suitable candidate. That
didn't mean he couldn't take her out to dinner, did it?

Petulantly, like a child defying a parental
edict he considered unfair, he punched in the number Chris had
given him. "Hello, Eden? It's Logan Redhorse," he said when she
answered. Then he firmly told himself that the pause on the other
end of the line did not disappoint him
. I
shouldn't
expect her to be happy to hear from me.

"Logan?"

The warmth rushed through him. So he hadn't
imagined it! Even now the power between them was just as real, even
over the phone lines.

"Chris told me you were in town. He said you
might like to go out with us tomorrow evening."

There was another slight hesitation. "I'd
love to."

"Let's say I pick you up around six-thirty
and drive you out to the farm. That way Chris and Sarah won't have
to worry about getting you home." He didn't add it would allow them
to extend their time together, if they both wanted to—or cut it
short, if that's the way the evening tended.

Again the brief pause. "That will be fine,"
she answered, and gave him her home address. He hung up a few
minutes later, his spirits buoyed by the prospect of seeing the
beautiful
belagaana
again. He calmed his conscience by
telling himself there was nothing serious between them.
We're
just two adults enjoying each other's company
, he told himself
firmly, but he walked away from the telephone humming an old love
song.

Eden changed her denim jumper for a pair of
navy slacks, then decided against them and changed back. Studying
her reflection in the bathroom's full-length mirror, she frowned in
frustration. For someone who had had more first dates than any six
women she knew, she certainly was having a hard time getting ready
for this one.

So what do I wear to go to dinner with a
man who
...? She stopped herself when she realized she had no
clear way to finish her thought. Well, one thing was certain: there
was no established dress code for this situation. She didn't even
know what—if anything—was going on between herself and Logan
Redhorse. Maybe if they spent enough time together, she'd find out.
Yes, maybe I'll just ask him.

Eden cocked an eyebrow. Why not? After all,
they weren't kids, and there was little need for them to play
games. She made a mental note. That decided, she hung up both the
jumper and the navy slacks and chose instead a pair of black
leggings topped with a hot-pink tunic. Sarah had said to dress for
comfort, and Eden always got compliments when she wore bright
colors. She studied herself in the mirror again and decided she'd
do.

She touched up her makeup and was just
running a brush through her hair when she heard Logan's truck pull
up outside. He was early. An unexpected tremor ran through her, and
her hand shook so hard she nearly dropped the brush. She steadied
herself with a long, calming breath, amazed by her case of nerves.
Veteran though she was, she couldn't seem to help being rattled by
this particular first date with this particular man.

"Hi," she said as she answered the door.

"Hi yourself," he answered, giving her outfit
a quick once-over. "You look great."

Eden smiled. "Thanks. So do you."
Dumb
thing to say
, she chided herself as she stood holding the door.
The man looked
so
good, she was having trouble thinking. Had
it not been for the feel of the wood under her hand, she might have
stood there indefinitely, just staring at him. "Um, we're a little
early for Chris and Sarah yet. Would you like to come in for a
minute?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Logan stepped inside.

"This way." Eden showed him down the hall
into the front room. "The place is a little cluttered just now..."
she began.

"Sarah said you're getting ready to paint,"
he offered helpfully.

"Yes. There's a lot of work to be done before
I can put the house on the market." She paused, stuck for words
again, and then picked up a stack of old newspapers from the couch.
She planned to spread them over the carpet when she painted. "Here,
have a seat. Can I get you a drink? I'm not sure what I have on
hand, but—"

"Water is fine. Ice if you have it."

"Sure. I'll be right back." Eden grimaced as
she left Logan sitting in the living room.
Great going, Grant.
Stupefy the man with your scintillating conversation
, she
reproved herself as she walked to the kitchen. She couldn't
remember the last time she had felt so stiff and uncomfortable with
a date.

Eden took a moment to prepare two glasses of
ice water, adding a fresh lemon wedge to each, and placed them on a
black lacquer serving tray, one of the few remaining treasures from
her mother's long-ago reign in the kitchen. She added a pitcher for
refills, then, starting down the hallway, vowed to have something
interesting to say by the time she reached the living room, but
found herself slowing her steps as she neared there, her mind still
a blank.
Ask him about his work,
she advised herself.
Experience had shown her that most men enjoyed discussing what they
did for a living, whether she followed any of it or not.

"So," she began as she crossed the room and
handed him the glass. "Chris tells me you do legal work for the
Navajo nation."

"Thank you," he said, taking the glass, "but
Chris gives my work more credit than I do. I represent the
People—the Dineh—in several business enterprises, but very little
of it is real legal work. Mostly I put my people in touch with
other people, trying to get things done."

Eden smiled warmly. "That sounds
worthwhile."

"You wouldn't think so if you saw what we
do," Logan answered with a self-effacing shrug. There's that smile
again. Eden caught her breath.
Think, girl, think!

"Like what?" Eden asked, pleased that she
sounded so calm.

Logan hesitated. "You really don't want to
hear this stuff," he warned. "It's pretty boring."

Perversely, that declaration was enough to
pique her interest. "Try me," she said. "What are you working on
right now?"

His expression looked doubtful. "Goats."

"Goats?"

"Yeah. You know,
baaaa
. Goats."

He looked so adorable when he made that
bleating noise that Eden chuckled. "Tell me about it."

So he did. Over the next few minutes, Eden
learned that the Dineh had long been herders of sheep and goats—the
sheep for both their meat and wool, and the goats largely as meat
animals. "But the gene pools that fed our herds were primarily from
dairy stock raised in Europe," Logan explained. "We didn't have any
meat breeds. Lately, it's become a tribal priority to increase both
the quality and quantity of protein available on the rez,
especially to growing children, so we've begun a project to bring
in goats that reproduce quickly and put on meat faster than other
breeds." He interrupted himself with a shrug. "See? I told you this
was boring."

"Not at all!" Eden answered, surprised to
find that she really was interested. "Remember?" She refilled his
water glass. "My best friend is a vet. Have you found goats like
you describe?"

"Yeah," he answered, apparently pleased at
her interest. "There's a couple in Canada who've been importing
Boer goats from South Africa. They call them the first true meat
breed. We've been working with them to build a herd here."

"Boer goats? Like the Boer War?"

"Exactly," he answered, and began telling her
about them. By the time they left to pick up Chris and Sarah, Eden
had learned that Boer nannies, properly called does, typically
dropped triplets and quads in each birth, compared to other breeds
which usually delivered twins or single births. Not confined to an
annual fall breeding season, Boers were fertile year-round and,
properly managed, could give birth three times in two years
compared to the once-yearly births of other breeds. Their young
developed rapidly as well.

"Do they need an exotic diet?" Eden asked,
searching her memory for tidbits she'd picked up when she'd heard
Sarah and her father talk livestock.

"That's the real beauty of the breed," Logan
answered. "They do great on mesquite, sage, black brush—all native
to the reservation desert lands."

"So," Eden said as they pulled up in Chris
and Sarah's dooryard, "the Boers adapt easily to local conditions,
produce almost twice as many young that grow nearly twice as fast,
and yield close to half again as much meat as other goats."

"Exactly," Logan answered as he stopped his
truck. "Here, let me get the door for you." Hopping out on his
side, he came around the front to open her door.

With a start, Eden realized that a goat she'd
never before heard of had helped them hurdle their conversation
barrier. She smiled at the irony. The relative ease of the last few
minutes gave her the courage to press a little. "I think I'd like
to meet your goats," she said as Logan took her arm, helping her
down from the truck. The touch, heated as an electrical jolt,
brought them close enough to look directly into each other's eyes.
Warmth and power surged between them, almost knocking her breath
away.

Logan felt it, too; she could tell. He stood,
studying her with a long, searching look. "I think I'd like to
introduce them to you," he said after a moment. "They'd probably
like to meet you, too—the goats, I mean."

"Goats, pigs, sheep... The man's a veritable
walking encyclopedia when it comes to farm animals. Hi, Eden."
Chris walked up beside them, Sarah at his side, and Eden realized
they must have been waiting on the porch, camouflaged in the
September twilight—and getting an earful about goats.

"Hi, Chris." Eden returned his light hug, and
then gave another to Sarah, glad the darkening sky hid her
blush.

"So tell me. Has the Navajos' answer to
Donald Trump been regaling you with stories of his latest business
conquests? Or boring you with stuff about farm animals?" Chris
asked, giving Logan an elbow.

"Aren't they the same thing?" Logan asked
with a shrug.

"Don't you know?" Sarah teased him.

"They seem the same to me," Logan answered.
"Everybody tells me I'm advising the tribe on business, but then
they set me up with goats and pigs." He shrugged. "Hey, how's a guy
supposed to know?"

Sarah laughed easily, and Eden joined her.
Any remaining discomfort vanished like bubbles on the summer air.
This dinner was going to be fun.

* * * * *

"What about Eden?" Chris asked as they
finished their dinner and started toward Sarah's car. He was
keeping his voice down, directing his words toward Logan alone
while the women lingered behind them.

"Don't you worry about the pretty
belagaana
, Logan answered, acting on the choice he'd made
hours earlier. "I'll see her safely home."

Chris gave him a meaningful look. "You like
her, don't you, buddy?"

Logan didn't dare say how much. He didn't
even want to think it. He shrugged. "What's not to like?"

Chris laughed; he'd said the same thing
himself. He measured his friend with a look, and then gave him a
playful shove. "Just watch how you treat this one, man. She's a
lady through and through."