A Wife in Wyoming (15 page)

“Sure.” She went into the barn, expecting to meet up with Ford. But by the time she'd reached the front door, she had to accept the fact that he wasn't there.

Dylan had come to the same conclusion. “Where's Ford? Has he pulled another disappearing act, like last night at dinner?”

“Maybe he went to check on Wyatt,” Garrett suggested. At that moment Wyatt walked out onto the porch of the ranch house, and Ford wasn't with him. “Or maybe not.”

“Come to think of it...” Dylan headed into the barn. He rejoined them in less than a minute. “Sundance isn't in the corral. Ford's out riding. Or doing something on horseback. Actually working, maybe. We haven't done much of that this week.”

Garrett chuckled. “A few days off won't cause a big problem. Maybe he's avoiding the kids' attempts at cooking.”

But Caroline thought Ford might just be avoiding her.

* * *

B
Y
DINNERTIME
ON
F
RIDAY
, Nate felt like a seasoned ranch hand. And he loved it. He got up earlier in the morning than he ever had during the school year, but knowing he'd be riding Lady Blue made it okay.

Not just riding in circles around the corral, either. Mr. Ford had taken them out into the big pasture where the horses grazed and, as he put it, “turned you kids loose.” Each rider was free to go wherever they wanted. On Thursday, going down a little hill, Blue broke into a jog. Instead of being scared, Nate just went with her, sensing her body shift underneath him and trying to match his movements with hers. The wind brushed his face as they went faster, and he decided right then that he would spend the rest of his life with horses. He wasn't sure how or where, yet, but he would do whatever it took to experience this kind of freedom as part of every single day.

When he wasn't in the saddle, he spent his days in the kitchen, cooking or cleaning up, usually both. Every so often, Marcos would give him a look, just to remind him the deal still held. Because the grown-ups took turns supervising, nobody picked up on the fact that he was always there. The other kids noticed, of course, but they had no reason to say anything and plenty of reason not to, since Marcos pretty much told them what to do and when to do it. He was big enough and cocky enough to get his way, or to make somebody wish he had.

Dinner tonight was no different. Nate helped Lizzie and Lena put together a noodle and hamburger casserole, plus a salad and garlic bread. Once dinner was finished, he started taking the dishes off the table.

“You wash.” Thomas elbowed him in the side. “Marcos says so.”

Marcos always said so. Nate didn't bother answering.

Miss Caroline came into the kitchen—she always stayed around when Thomas and Justino did cleanup, to be sure everything got done. Nate kept his head down as he ran water in the sink, hoping not to attract attention.

But tonight she noticed. “Nate, you cooked with Lizzie and Lena, didn't you? You don't have to clean up, too. Somebody else can wash the dishes.”

“I don't mind.” He could see disaster coming, like he was standing on the railroad tracks with a freight train headed directly at him.

“There are plenty of people to share the work. Thomas, you can take over the dishes. Justino can dry. Becky's wiping the table...” She surveyed the four of them and frowned. “Where's Marcos?”

Nobody said anything.

“He's part of your group, right?”

Still no answer.

Miss Caroline stood for a minute with her hands on her hips. “This isn't the first meal when Nate has worked for Marcos, is it? Becky?”

Becky shook her head.

“Nate, come with me.”

He followed her outside. Lizzie and Lena were on the porch of the cabin with their phones. Marcos was nowhere in sight.

“What's going on?” She put a hand on his shoulder and made him face her. “Why are you doing Marcos's work?”

“He wanted me to.”

“But you didn't have to agree. Why would you do that?”

Nate shrugged. “He's bigger than me.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“N-no.” He couldn't lie, even if it got him into more trouble.

She stared at him, frowning. “This has to stop. I'm going to find Marcos and get the story from him. No matter what, you don't do his work again. It's not good for him. Understand?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay. Go hang out for a while. Tonight's TV night, if you're interested.”

“Sure.” He went back in and switched on the set, but he sat there without watching.

What would Marcos say? If Miss Caroline found out that Nate had left the ranch, would she be mad enough to send him home?

Had he ridden Lady Blue for the last time?

* * *

C
AROLINE
FOUND
M
ARCOS
in the last place she expected—talking to Ford.

They were standing in the corral, leaning on the fence for the horses' pasture and watching the sun sink below the mountains. They seemed to have established a rapport, and she almost hated to disturb them.

Then she remembered Nate, who'd been working in the kitchen all week while Marcos escaped any responsibility. “Marcos?” She projected her voice with all the force she could muster. “Marcos!”

The two males jerked around. They watched her approach them across the corral, staying where they were.

She stopped directly in front of Marcos, breathing hard, though more from the anger possessing her than the effort of striding across the dirt. “You're cheating.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” But guilt kept his gaze away from hers.

“You forced Nate to take your kitchen duty. Practically all week long, he's been doing your job.”

Ford stiffened. “Is that right?”

Marcos shrugged. “How would I make him? I didn't beat him up or nothing.”

“You're a big guy, which is what counts. Well, your holiday is over. You're going home.”

She wasn't prepared for the way his face changed. In a moment, he went from an arrogant, combative teenager to a chastened and worried boy.

“I don't want to leave.”

“You've been nothing but trouble all week, Marcos. How am I supposed to accept that you want to stay?”

“I'll do better. I'll do my jobs.”

“He probably means it,” Ford said. “Right now.”

Caroline kept her eyes on Marcos. “Why should I believe you?”

The boy shook his head. “No reason. I have to prove it.”

Now she glanced at Ford, trying to read his reaction. Marcos could be manipulating her, pretending a penitence he was far from feeling because he figured she'd give in.

Ford's doubt showed in the thin line of his mouth, the frown in his eyes. He would probably advise against trusting Marcos again, as his experience with Lamont still weighed heavily on him.

But Caroline had to believe in the best of human nature. She'd staked her life—lost her family—for the chance to make a difference with kids just like Marcos. Surrender was not an option.

“I'll give you one last chance,” she said, ignoring Ford's exasperated breath. “But no more, Marcos. If you cause problems again, throw another tantrum, refuse to cooperate—I won't discuss it or debate it. You will go home.”

“Right. I got it. Can I go now?”

“Yes.”

He crossed to the barn at a near run and disappeared inside. Exhausted from just the last few minutes, Caroline let her shoulders slump. She put a hand to her temple, where a headache had started to throb.

“That,” Ford said quietly, “was a big mistake.”

* * *

C
AROLINE
STRAIGHTENED
HER
spine and lifted her head. “I'm sure you think so,” she said. “But I have to try.”

“And I admire your hopefulness. I just hate for you to be disappointed.”

“It's happened before.” She began walking toward the barn.

Ford came up beside her. “You're talking about your dad?”

“Among many others I've tried to help over the years. People aren't perfect, Ford. They're going to make mistakes. You forgive them and go on.”

“You make it sound easy.”

Caroline stopped at the door to the barn and faced him. “You make it especially difficult.” Dark had fallen, but he could discern her face by the light of a rising moon. “You're so worried about having all the bases covered, the risks managed, that you can't relax and just enjoy life. You never consider what you want, Ford. You only focus on what's safe.”

“Not true.” He set his hands against the wall on either side of her. “Lately, I'm thinking all the time about what I want. Like this—” Bending his head, he kissed her temple, her cheek, her ear. “And this.” He trailed his fingers along her throat, let them rest at the pulse point above her breastbone. “This.” He slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her against him and dove in to take her mouth. “I want you every minute of every day. Whether it's safe or not.”

Caroline yielded, her arms around his neck drawing him even closer, her mouth opening underneath his. Ford groaned and released the reins on his desire, his body fully alive to the pleasure of her softness against him. He ran his hands over her slim back and then lower, shaping her bottom with his palms, pressing her even harder against him. Her shirttail came loose, and now his hands were on her skin, so smooth and warm. Kisses seared between them, lips and tongues searching, always searching for more. At the brink of sanity, Ford wrapped an arm around her waist and the other under her bottom and lifted Caroline off the ground, with her shoulders against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his hips.

The night filled with fire.

He wasn't sure what returned him to consciousness. Maybe some wisp of a gentleman's code floating through his brain that said you didn't take a woman you cared about against the wall of a barn. Ford hoped so, anyway. All he knew was that he had to stop now. Or he wouldn't be able to stop at all.

“Shh, shh.” He eased Caroline to the floor, allowed some air to flow between his body and hers. She kept kissing him, and he couldn't—wouldn't—make her stop, but he tried to lower the heat, slow the tempo, somehow wind down their desire to something he could control.

Eventually, she lowered her head and took in a ragged breath. Then she dropped her chin to rest her forehead against his chest. After a while she said, “Thanks.”

He gave a ghost of a laugh. “Anytime.”

“No, I mean for stopping.”

“I can't say it was my pleasure.”

“No. But smart.”

“Yeah.” He hesitated awhile, then decided he had to ask. “Caroline, what about Garrett?”

She didn't lift her head. “What about him?”

“Are you...together?”

Now she stared up at him, her forehead wrinkled. “No. Close friends, that's all.” In the next moment she pulled away and walked a few steps off before turning to stare at him. “Why in the world do you ask? Do you honestly believe I would—would act this way with you if Garrett and I had a romantic relationship?”

“I didn't mean—”

“I don't go around making love with just any guy who happens to be hanging around.”

“Caroline—”

“Maybe you expect it from the women you meet out there in almighty San Francisco, but I'm not that kind of person. I save my kisses for people I lo—care about, thank you very much.” She stomped farther into the barn, toward the front door, tucking in her shirt as she went.

Ford didn't follow. He could predict what would happen if he caught up with her in the dark.

Instead, he crossed his arms against the wall and leaned his head into them. He needed a few more minutes to calm down. Caroline had nearly blown his fuse with her kisses. Those kisses she saved for the people she lo—

Love? What other word would she have meant? Had Caroline just confessed that she loved him? Was he ready to admit the same thing?

And what the hell was he supposed to do about it?

Chapter Ten

The teenagers tried to be cool, but their excitement over going to the rodeo was all too obvious. Even their Saturday cleaning chores didn't dim the air of expectation. By lunch, they could hardly sit still in their chairs. Thomas, Marcos, Justino and Becky finished kitchen cleanup in record time, with no prompting from Caroline. She'd announced that they'd be leaving the ranch at two o'clock, but by one thirty everyone had found a place on the house porch, as if afraid of getting left behind.

By luck or by design, Dylan and Garrett rode together in Wyatt's truck, leaving Ford as a passenger in the van with Caroline and the kids. Still nursing her hurt feelings, Caroline had managed to avoid him all day, and didn't plan to converse with him except in case of an emergency.

For a change, though, Ford didn't challenge her to communicate—he sat on his side of the van without speaking, staring straight ahead. After a few miles of absolute quiet, Caroline decided she would have to be the one to break the silence.

“So who has been to a rodeo before?” None of the kids answered. “Nobody?”

“When I was a little kid, my dad went to rodeos.” Nate's quiet voice came from the rear of the van. “But that was years ago.”

Becky spoke up. “You went, didn't you, Miss Caroline?”

“I spent a lot of time at rodeos. I would go with my dad when I was young, because he supplied horses and bulls for the events. I started barrel racing myself, and went to compete.” She decided not to let Ford escape contributing. “Mr. Ford and his brothers went to the rodeo, too.”

Thomas voiced his skepticism. “Bet you never rode in one, though.”

Ford stirred in his seat. “Bet you'd lose. We competed all through high school. Miss Caroline isn't giving you the whole story, though. She rode for her college in barrel racing. She's a real champion.”

“What kind of riding does a rodeo have, anyway?” Lizzie asked. “I've never watched one, even on TV.”

“Bull riding,” Thomas said. “Bareback horses.”

“They're called bucking broncs.” Marcos corrected him. “Also saddle broncs. Where the horse wears a saddle.”

“Steer roping,” Justino added. “But the bull riders are the best. You can get killed by those things.”

“What event did you ride in, Mr. Ford?” That was Nate again.

Looking flushed, Ford cleared his throat. “I tried all the rough-stock events, as they're called—the bulls, the saddle broncs and bareback. But most often I rode the bulls.”

The kids whistled and cheered. “Can you ride today?” For the first time all week, Justino showed some enthusiasm. “That would be cool to watch.”

“I haven't ridden in years.” Ford shook his head. “And you have to sign up in advance.”

But when they reached the rodeo grounds and got out of the van, an announcement over the loudspeaker caught their attention. “There's still a chance to sign up, ladies and gents, for the rough-stock events and barrel racing! We're accepting all competitors, so if you've got the itch to show off your rodeo skills this afternoon, here's your opportunity!”

The boys, even Nate, began pestering Ford. “You gotta do it,” Marcos said.

“Come on, man.” Thomas was almost jumping up and down. “We want to see you ride.”

Ford looked at Caroline. “Above and beyond the call of duty, right?”

“Definitely. We don't want you getting hurt.” But that, she realized immediately, was the wrong thing to say.

He stared at her, a steely glint in his eyes. “You don't trust me to stay on?”

Fear drilled into her chest. “You said yourself, it's been years since you rode.”

“Some things you don't forget. For instance,
you
could ride in the barrel races.”

Aware of the kids circled around them, listening, she didn't inform him he was crazy. “I don't have a horse.”

“That might not be a problem. Come on, kids.”

In the next moment, Ford and the teenagers headed over to the rodeo office. With a helpless glance at the other Marshall brothers, Caroline followed.

She arrived to hear the rodeo secretary assuring Ford that they did have horses available for barrel racers without one. “Can't guarantee their speed, but we got a few extras, courtesy of the Donnelly Ranch outfit. They supplied all the stock for today's show.”

Great. Her dad's horses—chances were she had ridden one or two of them. And did that mean she'd be running into him while trying to keep control of this bunch of teenagers? Would he say something she'd regret?

“Come on, Miss Caroline.” Lena tugged on her shirtsleeve. “You've gotta show us how you ride.”

“The boys have a bull rider,” Lizzie added. “We ought to have a barrel racer on our side.”

Becky's excited face echoed her friend's opinion.

And so, against her better judgment, Caroline entered the barrel racing event. Garrett was shaking his head as she and Ford steered the kids toward them.

“You two are crazy,” he said. “You're both ten years or more—” he cocked an eyebrow at Ford “—out of practice.”

“The bull won't realize that.” Ford held up his entry sheet. “Oh, great—his name is Nutcracker.”

Caroline folded her lips on a smile, but his brothers howled in laughter. Thomas, Marcos and Justino got the joke and snickered. The girls and Nate looked puzzled.

“I'll explain it to you later,” Justino told Lena. “Then you can explain it to them.” He nodded at Becky and Lizzie.

Once inside the rodeo gates, all the kids immediately wanted food. And each of them wanted something different, which made supervising impossible. Caroline distributed cash and a warning to meet her at the corner of the bleachers in fifteen minutes so they could all get seated.

“They're finishing up the team roping,” Dylan reported. “We missed the bareback riding.”

“Probably just as well,” Ford said. “The kids would want to be out in the field trying to ride without saddles.” He glanced over at Wyatt. “Maybe you should go and find a seat. We'll probably be a while.”

“No, I like standing here just fine.” Wyatt adjusted the set of his hat and gazed out over the crowd. “I'm thinking you're the one who'll be having trouble standing once you get on that bull. You're insane, letting these kids goad you into it.”

“Probably.” Ford sounded a little annoyed himself. “If I get into trouble, I'll bail out. I do remember how to fall off.”

Dylan leaned over to speak into Caroline's ear. “That's them having an argument.”

She nodded. “I can tell.”

Though it took more than fifteen minutes, all the kids showed up at the appointed place, various types of food in their hands and expectation on their faces. Caroline sent Thomas and Marcos in first. “Find a place where all of us can sit together.”

And they did—on the highest row, of course. If the climb bothered Wyatt, he didn't let on. And if seeing Wyatt climb to the top of the bleachers bothered Ford, the only clue was the straight line of his mouth, the hard set of his jaw. He didn't say a word.

There were eight riders in the saddle bronc event, and Caroline could only grin as the teenagers around her got into the rodeo spirit. They sat forward as horse and rider erupted from the chute, gasping at turns and kicks and spins, cheering as the cowboy stayed on for a full eight seconds and moaning in sympathy for the ones who didn't make it that long. They talked over each competitor's performance, consulting the Marshall brothers on the fine details. Caroline was happy that all of them—brothers and kids alike—were having a fun.

When the steer wrestling started, she stood up and got everybody's attention. “I'm going down to meet my horse and get ready to race. Any questions before I go?”

With the shaking of a few heads, the kids quickly refocused on the action in the arena.

Caroline chuckled and started to make her way down the bleachers.

In the next moment, she realized Ford was coming down behind her.

She turned to confront him, which meant gazing a long way up. “What are you doing?”

“I planned to walk you over to the pens.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“Do you mind?” His gaze was more intense than the simple question called for.

“N-no. Of course not.” She tried to dispel the tension. “No respectable cowgirl would mind walking through the rodeo grounds with a handsome cowboy at her side.”

“Thanks for the tip.” He waved her on, leaving her no option but to continue down the steps and out of the arena, with Ford right behind her.

Walking past the food trucks and the booths selling T-shirts, fancy belt buckles and cheap jewelry, Caroline searched for something to say. “I bet you haven't been to a rodeo—even to watch—since you went to college.”

“Have you? Since you left the team?”

“I go with friends occasionally. It's a fun way to spend a Saturday night.”

“Especially if you're not the one getting bucked off.”

“That's probably true.” She stopped and put a hand on his arm. “You really don't have to make this ride. The kids will cope if you withdraw.”

His warm fingers covered hers. “Don't worry. I'll be okay.”

“I would feel awful if you got hurt.” She'd forgotten she was trying to be mad at him.

“How will you feel when I come off just fine?” The question seemed more important than the words would suggest.

“I—I—”

The loudspeaker crackled. “All barrel racing competitors should report to check-in for their event. Ladies, we're waiting for you!”

Ford tilted his head. “Better get going.”

They jogged toward the horse pens and arrived at the sign-up table just as the last person in line finished. “I'm Caroline Donnelly,” she said, panting a little. “I'll need a horse.”

“Sure thing,” the woman at the table said, checking her list. “It's funny that you're a Donnelly, too. These horses come from the Donnelly Quarter Horse Ranch.”

“Yes. Funny.” She grimaced at Ford and got a commiserating frown in return.

“So our extras are in that pen right over there. They're for sale, too, in case you're interested. Pick whichever one you want, and have a great ride.”

Caroline glanced at the horses inside the fence and gasped. “He didn't!”

Ford followed her to the pen. “You recognize these horses?”

“I know the palomino. I raised her from a foal. She was my horse when I lived at ho—when I still lived at the ranch. Her name is Medallion. I called her Allie.” She slipped through the gate, and Ford latched it behind her. “Allie? Remember me, Allie girl?”

The golden horse lifted her head at the sound of Caroline's voice. Then she whickered in greeting.

“Hey, lady, how are you?” Caroline ran her hand along the mare's neck, noticing the dirt in her coat, the untrimmed length of her mane. “Somebody's not brushing you, are they?” She kept her voice soft and friendly, despite her distress. “You need a beauty treatment, hmm?” Allie rubbed her forehead against Caroline's sleeve, leaving behind some dry, dusty hair.

Ford had come around on the outside to where Caroline stood with the horse. “Looks like she's been turned out for quite a while. Will she be okay to ride?”

“I trust her. Will you tell the secretary which horse I've chosen?”

“Sure thing.”

Caroline untied Allie's rope from the fence and led her out of the pen. “Did you come with a bridle, girl? You got one of the old, beat-up saddles, didn't you?” But it still had a brass plaque tacked on saying, “Donnelly Ranch.”

Ford came over holding a bridle. “The secretary gave me this for you.”

“Great.” Caroline slipped the bridle into place, noting that it hadn't been oiled or even cleaned recently. “Secondhand gear, Allie. But we're gonna have a nice fast run, aren't we? Do our best out there with those barrels?”

She looked at Ford. “Guess we're set.”

He grinned. “Leg up?”

“Sure.” With her left foot in the stirrup she bent her knee and felt Ford take hold. In one easy move she swung into the saddle. Settling, she said, “We work well together.”

“I noticed that.” He stood beside her, with a hand on her calf. “I'm going to go out front so I can watch. Have fun.”

“Thanks.” She and Allie took their places as last in line, waiting as the nine horses ahead of them took a run at the barrel pattern out in the arena. Finally, it was their turn. They moved into the alley and started at a lope, getting faster and faster, till they burst out onto open ground.

“Go, Allie,” Caroline shouted, kicking her heels. “Go!”

* * *

F
ORD
FOUND
AN
empty spot on the arena wall and stepped into it, propping his folded arms on top. One by one the barrel racers shot out, following the cloverleaf pattern of the race. Most of the riders were local, and the times were on the slow side—eighteen, twenty seconds or more. Caroline had a decent chance of actually winning the event.

He tensed up as rider nine completed her pattern and crossed the finish line. In a couple of seconds,
whoosh
, Caroline and Allie dashed into sight, running for the left-hand barrel. A quick loop around and they were crossing to his right. From appearances, Caroline might have been practicing every day of the past ten years, while Allie was a natural for the sport. From the second barrel they flew to the third, and were halfway around when, somehow, they knocked into the barrel. As the big drum teetered, Caroline and Allie headed for the finish. Just before they crossed the line, the barrel fell.

She'd done a great run—fourteen and a half seconds. But the upended barrel would add five seconds to her time.

The announcer commiserated. “Too bad for our last contender, Caroline Donnelly. But her time still puts her in third place for the event. Our barrel race concludes with Cindy Fremont in first with eighteen point one five seconds, Gail Valdes with nineteen point three two seconds and Caroline Donnelly in third with nineteen point five six seconds. Congratulations, ladies! Bull riding is up next, folks, so get ready for more rodeo excitement!”