A Wife in Wyoming (17 page)

“Crystal,” Thomas said. “Can we go now?”

She nodded, and they set off for the barn at a pace slightly slower than a run.

“Do you trust them to stick around?” Wyatt took an easier pace, which the other adults accommodated. “How can you be sure they won't take off? This is a pretty big crowd,” he said as they reached the doorway. “Will we ever find them again?”

“They heard the rules,” Ford said. “They should understand by now that they'll only get privileges if they obey those rules. I think they'll come back when we ask them to.”

Caroline stopped in her tracks, staring at him in amazement.

Ford met her gaze. “What's wrong?”

“Did you hit your head on that ride? You don't sound like yourself at all.”

“Maybe I learned a thing or two over the week, too.”

“Really?”

Before he could answer, Dylan sauntered over. “Miss Caroline, would you care for a dance?”

Ford stepped between them. “Sorry, brother. She's already given the first dance to me.” When Dylan opened his mouth to argue, Ford put his arm around her waist and walked her out onto the floor. In the next moment, they were doing a two-step.

She leaned back to look up at him. “I did?”

“You did.” He sent her out to arm's length for a spin and pulled her in again, closer this time. “You don't want to dance with Dylan. Or Garrett. Or Wyatt,” he murmured into her ear.

Caroline didn't protest the lack of space between their bodies. “What makes you so sure?”

“The way you kiss
me
.”

She couldn't say anything for a long moment. “You're full of surprises tonight.”

“I guess I needed some shaking up. Nutcracker did me a favor.”

“I was scared to death for you.”

“That makes two of us.”

She laughed. “I don't believe you.”

“I'm scared now, too.”

Again she drew back to stare up at him. “Why?”

Ford held her gaze. “I've never been in love before.”

Her pulse jumped, and she got a little dizzy. “Why are you confessing this in the midst of all these people?”

“You said we couldn't leave the building. The only other option for a little privacy was dancing.” The music stopped and then started up again for a line dance. Keeping Caroline's hand, Ford located his brothers standing against a wall. He headed in the opposite direction.

Luckily, they found an empty corner where they could have a little bit of privacy. Ford stood with his back to the crowd. “Just warn me if you see anybody coming.”

“I will.” She reached up and touched his jaw briefly. “But you can't kiss me here.”

“I can think about it. You can think about it. That's almost good enough.”

They stared at each other for a minute, while the air around them got warmer...hotter...stifling. The tension between them tightened unbearably.

Finally, Caroline made herself look away.

Ford shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “Okay, maybe not something we should think too hard about in public.”

She covered her flushed face with shaking hands. “Probably not.”

“Guess we'll have to stick to dancing. But later, maybe we could do a little guard duty. Make sure the kids stay where they belong. What do you say, Miss Caroline?”

“Sounds like a good precaution, Mr. Ford. We wouldn't want anybody roaming around loose in the dark.”

“No, indeed.” The music changed again, to a waltz. Before he could ask, Caroline grabbed his hand.

“In the meantime, cowboy,” she said, smiling with all her heart, “come dance with me.”

* * *

A
LL
THE
KIDS
fell asleep on the ride home. Ford drove the van and held Caroline's hand and didn't think beyond getting through the next hour until he could hold her in his arms.

His watch read almost 3:00 a.m. by the time he made his way to the house and to his room. He would have ignored his email until tomorrow, but he bumped the table while taking his boots off, which woke up the computer. His mail page came up on the screen.

A message from his assistant, entitled Urgent in red letters, caught his eye.

The office is in an uproar
, she wrote.
Lyle Cavendish marched into Price's office on Friday—without an appointment—to complain about the lack of progress on his case.
Cavendish was Ford's most profitable client.
Price smoothed things over, but once C left, he pitched a fit of his own and ordered a review of all your current files and an update on any résumés received in the last six months. There are interview calls going out next week. You'd better come back now if you're ever planning to.

Chapter Eleven

Monday morning Ford threw himself into the work with the kids and the ranch chores using every ounce of energy he possessed, all the while wondering how to fix the mess he'd made of his life.

The time frame for deciding between Wyoming and San Francisco had become hours instead of weeks or days. He could desert Caroline but maintain a secure future for his brothers and the Circle M Ranch. Or he could stay with the woman he loved and risk everything Henry MacPherson and the Marshalls had worked for all these years.

Or, he realized late in the afternoon, Caroline could come to San Francisco. He had assumed, at the beginning, that she wouldn't consider that option. But she was estranged from her family. And there were plenty of people who needed help on the West Coast. Perhaps all he had to do, to solve his dilemma, was ask.

He met her on the porch for “guard duty” Monday night. “Everybody in bed?” he asked, as he climbed the steps. “The boys seem to be settled.”

“The girls are asleep. All this exercise has them so tired at night, they don't even stay up to play with their phones.”

He sat down beside her on the double rocker and stretched his arm behind her shoulders. “There may be hope for them yet.” When he bent his head, she met him halfway. “Mmm. I've been waiting for that all day.”

“Me, too.” Another kiss, this one lasting longer, going deeper. She tasted like the hot chocolate she'd whipped up earlier, while he was playing the guitar for the kids. When she drew away to take a deep breath, he kissed her temples, her eyes and the tip of her nose.

“What's this you're wrapped up in?” He tugged at the blanket she'd brought out from the house.

“It's cold out here.”

“Funny, I'm feeling kind of heated.”

“I'm getting warmer,” she whispered.

Ford angled his body to bring them closer together. “Must be doing something right.”

“Oh, yes.” Desire blazed between them, her skin hot to his touch, his body burning for more contact, more connection...

“This is crazy,” he said at last, exerting some control. “You're driving me crazy. And, God help me, I can't do anything about that here and now.”

“I'm sorry.” Caroline sat up straight and pulled her shirtfront together.

“No, don't be.” He let his head drop back and took a deep breath. “But we deserve better than a front porch rocker, with one ear always listening for somebody coming along. So...” His hand closed over hers and held it tight. “So I'm asking you to come to California with me. To San Francisco.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean—”

“As my wife, Caroline. I want to marry you.”

Her lips parted, but she didn't say anything.

Ford shifted, facing her more directly. “Silence wasn't quite the reaction I was hoping for.”

She pushed her hair behind her shoulders. “I'm not sure what to say.”

“A simple ‘yes' would work. I love you, Caroline. Maybe I always have. Maybe I was just waiting to find you again to start living my life. That's how it feels.”

“I know,” she said, after another pause. “I've felt that way, too. But—”

“They want me at the office.” He might as well confess everything. “My job is at risk.”

“I thought you would be here for the summer.”

“Me, too. The senior partner has changed his mind about that. You don't have to come right away, though. I understand you have a commitment to the kids.” He tried out a grin. “Besides, it takes a while to plan a wedding, right?”

She didn't return the smile. “How will Garrett and Dylan manage everything? The camp, the ranch work, Wyatt...”

Ford swallowed his impatience. “We might have to hire a couple of guys to deal with the cattle and chores.” He softened his voice. “Maybe you could shorten the program, too. Eight weeks would be long enough, don't you think? Or even four. Situations change. You have to adjust.”

With an awkward jerk, Caroline left the rocker and went to stand on the far side of the porch. “The rest of us have to adjust so you can resume your high-profile career? Is that what you're saying?”

“I'm saying I want to marry you, to live with you for the rest of our lives. I'm not trying to derail you from your work—San Francisco offers plenty of opportunities for helping kids and adults of all kinds.” He crossed to stand beside her. “It's the perfect solution. Commuting would be impossible.”

“I—” She crossed her arms, wrapping the blanket more securely around her, and faced away from him. Again. “I can't go.”

His gut started to grind. “You'd be seeing your family just as much.”

“I would be leaving all the people here who depend on me.”

There was no answer he could make to that.

In an even lower voice, she said, “I'd be giving in.”

“Giving in?”

“To my dad.”

Ford rubbed a hand over his face. “How would marrying me mean giving in to your arrogant, overbearing, unforgiving dad? To me it seems just the opposite.”

Caroline lifted her chin and, finally, turned back to meet his gaze with her own. “I don't want to be a princess anymore. I want to make a difference. In the place I call home.”

“San Francisco—”

She nodded. “Sure. I appreciate that you wouldn't expect me to change my profession, as he did. Leaving Bisons Creek, though—moving to the big city to be the wife of a rich lawyer who descends from her tower to favor the less fortunate—how is that any different?”

“So you won't marry me because of my job?” Anger mixed in with the pain.

“I want to show my dad that he is wrong. That the people I work with are worth helping. I want to be their friend, a part of their lives, not separated from them by money and prestige.” She put a hand on his arm. “What might have happened if we hadn't had those barriers between us in high school? We could have had a real relationship years ago.”

“Maybe. I mean... That would have been—” Words failed him. Logic seemed impossible through the pain.

After a few minutes, he managed to make himself move. “You'd better get inside.” He opened the door for her, but kept his distance as she walked through.

She looked at him from the threshold. Tears shone in her eyes. “I wish I could feel differently.”

“I...” For a man used to thinking on his feet, he was having a lot of trouble putting ideas together. “We'll talk.”

Caroline nodded and shut the door between them.

Ford went to his room and made a plane reservation for the following Sunday afternoon.

He'd said he didn't believe the kids would endure longer than two weeks at the ranch. How ironic that
he
would be the one who didn't last.

* * *

C
AROLINE
TRIED
TO
take satisfaction from the observation that the second week of ranch camp was as different from the first week as buffalo were from giraffes. Chores got done without too much complaining, even from Marcos. Mornings, the kids saddled their horses and went on long rides with her and one of the Marshall brothers while the other two got some actual ranch work done. Marcos and Thomas tried bareback riding in the corral as training for their goal of bull riding. They each fell off, more than once, but got up and on again with no complaints. Justino said he'd stick with a saddle and staying on the horse.

Nate rode Blue without a saddle and stuck to the mare like a burr, even in the field at a jog. Fortunately, the other boys mostly ignored him and didn't notice.

In the afternoons the kids worked on rodeo skills. Dylan, Garrett and Ford rigged up the bucking barrel they'd learned on themselves and started teaching Thomas, Marcos and Lena how to ride it. Caroline set up a cloverleaf of barrels on a level area in the field where Becky and Lizzie could practice racing. They started with their horses at a walk but by the end of the week, both girls were doing pretty well staying on the pattern at a jog.

Evenings became a gathering time, with the kids wanting to talk about their new skills, soaking up any tips their mentors could provide. Monday night they'd gone to the fort for a campfire, but on Tuesday and Wednesday they gathered on the front porch of the ranch house, eating homemade ice cream while they talked about horses and bulls.

Underneath the contentment, however, ran a stream of pure anguish. The awareness that Ford would be leaving hung over his brothers like a smoky haze, blurring or even hiding their usual good humor. The lines in Wyatt's face had gotten deeper overnight. Dylan's smart comments went unsaid, and Garrett's encouragement sounded forced. Caroline recognized she was failing to be as supportive, as effective with the kids as she wanted to be. Cheerful was hard to produce when your heart was broken.

And even harder when you had done the damage all by yourself.

Of them all, Ford seemed the least changed. He remained patient and positive with the kids, applauding their efforts and offering advice wherever needed. His grin appeared with about the same frequency as before, at least as far as the kids were concerned. If he didn't joke around with his brothers as much, well, they were all busy. And if he didn't share her glances, or quite meet her eyes, if there were no stolen moments of privacy for the two of them...that was wise, considering the situation. They'd been pushing their luck before. Getting caught would have been disastrous.

But she felt the withdrawal of his attention as if the sun had disappeared from the sky. A thousand times, she wanted to go to him and cancel her refusal. “Yes, I'll marry you,” she would say, “and I'll live with you anywhere. I love you so much!”

Then she had to break up an argument between Thomas and Marcos over an ill-considered comment. They still had trouble with their tempers, and were always ready to take it out on each other. How could she simply abandon them to their fates?

Thursday a storm blew in, bringing heavy gray skies and a day full of rain. Ford, Dylan and Garrett worked cattle anyway, moving cows and calves from a used-up pasture to fresh grass. The kids watched television, played board games and took advantage of the chance to be lazy. Caroline figured once in two weeks wasn't too bad a record.

The wind coming off the mountains was chilly that evening, so instead of sitting on the rain-whipped porch, the teens wandered into the Marshalls' big living room, where Dylan soon had a nice fire blazing. With only a couple of lamps on, the room transformed into a warm, comfortable cave, sheltering them all from the weather. Honey moved from teenager to teenager, getting love at each stop, while Ford played the guitar and kids sang or didn't, depending on the song. Even Wyatt came out to sit with them a while and listen.

After a rousing version of “On Top of Spaghetti,” Ford put his guitar in the case. Before the kids started moving, he stood up and switched on an extra lamp. Then he stood in front of the fireplace. “I have something to tell you all.”

Caroline gripped her hands together. Garrett sent her a worried glance.

“I was planning to stay most of the summer,” Ford said. “But my boss wants me in San Francisco, doing my job. He says show up now or I'm fired.”

“That's stupid,” Marcos said. “You're on vacation.”

“The clients don't care about vacations. They want their work taken care of when it's convenient for them.”

Lena shook her head. “You should just quit. I bet you like working here better, anyway.”

Ford managed a weary smile. “That's not the issue. But I wanted to let everybody know that I'll be leaving Sunday afternoon. I'm sorry about this—I was looking forward to what the rest of the summer holds for all of you. But you'll have a great time with Caroline, Garrett and Dylan. Maybe I can come over in August and check on your rodeo skills.”

Thomas shot to his feet. “I think you're just tired of putting up with us. Two weeks is as much as you can take.”

In the silence following his outburst, the screen door slapped loudly against the threshold. Caroline glanced around and realized that Nate had disappeared.

“I'm being completely honest,” Ford said to Thomas. “If I don't go back, I lose my job.”

“You're a lawyer,” Becky said. “You can always get another job.”

“There are reasons—”

“Excuses is what you mean.” Justino stood and pulled Lena up beside him. “Don't bother.” They went through the door. In a matter of moments all the kids left the house.

“That went well.” Ford propped an elbow on the mantel and rubbed his fingers in his eyes.

Garrett got up. “You had to expect they'd be hurt. And angry.” He blew out a breath. “I'll make sure they've ended up where they're supposed to.”

In the corner of the sofa, Dylan stirred. “I'll come with you.”

Without saying a word, Wyatt left the room, followed by Honey. Seconds later a door in the rear of the house shut with a firm thud.

Caroline eased out of the recliner. “I should check on the girls.”

Ford followed her to the door. “What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

His nearness made concentrating difficult. “Um...supervising a ride in the north pasture?”

“What if we took off for a while?” One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “A few hours together before I...leave?”

“How can we do that? What excuse would there be?”

“That we're mending fences. Dylan and Garrett both hate the job, so I'll take you along instead.”

“What about the kids? They're pretty smart.”

“And currently furious with me. They'd probably prefer I be somewhere they aren't, anyway.”

Still, she hesitated. “Dylan and Garrett won't be fooled. And Wyatt will know what we're up to.”

“They're grown-ups—they'll handle it without embarrassing you. Or I'll make them sorry.”