A Wife in Wyoming (18 page)

When she didn't commit, he set a hand on her shoulder. “Please, Caroline. I want to hold you when there's nobody around. I want to talk with you above a whisper. I want some time for just us.”

He would be gone in a matter of days. How could she refuse? “I'd love to mend fences with you.”

* * *

T
HEY
SET
OFF
the next morning after breakfast in a truck instead of the traditional way, on horseback. Ford wanted to get to the fences farthest south, where the cattle had spent the spring, which would be a long day in the saddle. He didn't plan to spend that much of the day actually working.

Yesterday's rain had cleared, and the bright, warm sunshine favored their project. Caroline had never repaired fences on her dad's ranch, but she learned fast and made quick work of twisting wires together. With two people on the lookout for breaks, they covered the miles of fence line in less than two hours.

“Done,” Ford declared, putting his tool bag in the bed of the truck. “We can honestly say we worked while we were out here.”

Caroline frowned at him. “Do we have to go back so soon?”

“Nope. I have something to show you first. Hop in the truck.”

After about fifteen minutes, they left the open pastureland of the Circle M for a more wooded area, following a small, rutted path up into the foothills of the Big Horns. Caroline cast him a couple of doubtful glances, but didn't say anything. Ford just hoped no trees had fallen to block his way.

“Okay,” he said, when he could see their destination ahead, at the end of the tunnel of pines. “Close your eyes.”

She obeyed but then opened one eye to peer at him again. “Don't drive off a cliff.”

“I'm not closing
my
eyes.”

“Just wanted to be sure.”

He drove out of the shadows into sunlight and stopped the truck. “Keep 'em closed,” he told her. “I'll help you out of the truck.” Only when he'd lifted her down and walked her around to the front of the vehicle did he say, “Now you can look.”

Caroline opened her eyes and blinked. Her jaw dropped. “Oh, Ford. How gorgeous.”

The large meadow was ringed by foothills and filled with flowers. Blue spikes, yellow pinwheels and white bunches stood almost waist high, stretching from side to side under the brilliant azure of the Wyoming sky.

“I'm not sure of the names of the plants,” he confessed. “I found this place one summer in high school.” He cleared his throat. “My brothers have never been here.”

Her smile acknowledged that gift. Turning, she studied the flowers. “Lupines are the blue ones,” she said. “Balsamroot is the yellow. Lots of different whites...I can't name them all, either. Who cares? It's perfect.” She spun and threw her arms around his neck, lifting her face to his. “Thank you for sharing this place with me.”

“My pleasure.” Indeed, the pleasure of holding her, hard, closer than close, overwhelmed him. Her breasts firm against his chest, the softness of her belly against his hardness, the freedom to stroke her shoulders and hips and bottom... Ford held on to sanity by one slim thread.

“I have a blanket,” he whispered, though he could have shouted and nobody would have heard but Caroline. “Let me...get it.”

“I hate to crush the flowers,” she said, when he reappeared. “Is there a bare place?”

“Over here.” He led her to the edge of the trees, where the bottom branches were high but the ground underneath was relatively clear. Together they stretched the dark green blanket over the earth. Ford put the bag of food he'd brought on one corner and a cooler of drinks on another.

But having set the stage, he wondered if he'd assumed too much. He'd be leaving in two days—a planned seduction scene suddenly seemed downright dishonorable. Slam bam, thank you, ma'am, indeed.

He stood at the edge of the blanket, suddenly awkward.

Caroline glanced at him and then sat down to take off her boots, putting them on the other two corners. She knelt at the blanket's center. “Are you stalling, cowboy?”

He came down on his knees in front of her. “Maybe. I wouldn't want to take anything for granted. We don't have to—”

“Yes, we do,” she said, dragging his shirttail out of his jeans. “We have to.
Now.
”

Next thing he knew, her hands slid across his skin, trailing fire where they touched. He bent to kiss her—wild, no hesitation, no second thoughts. Her tongue against his, the taste of her in his mouth—a sweetness he'd die for. She slid his shirt up to his shoulders, and he drew away long enough to jerk it over his head and off, glad he'd rolled up the sleeves hours ago.

With her face cupped in his shaking hands, Ford returned for more kisses, tender this time, gentle, as she deserved. But Caroline brushed her palms across his nipples and drove things over to the desperate side. He arched her across his arm, swept her legs out straight and took her down to the blanket, stretching out beside her to run his free hand from knee to hip to shoulder before settling on her breast.

“I love you,” he said, against her lips. “I think I forgot to say that.”

She chuckled and slipped a hand under his jeans. “You think too much.”

Bare skin to bare skin, mouths fused, hands trembling, they took and took from each other until all there was left to do was give. Ford lay back and brought Caroline down on top of him, watched her move, felt her body locked around his.

Nothing in life had ever meant as much.

* * *

C
AROLINE
WOKE
UP
and realized she'd been asleep in the open air, lying along the length of Ford's body with her head pillowed on his shoulder.

And no clothes on, which made her smile.

“Something funny?”

She lifted her head to find him awake, too. “I haven't run around outdoors with no clothes on since I was two years old.”

“No skinny-dipping in college?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nah. Too busy studying. I was hoping you'd made up for it with your wild ways.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

He brought her face close to his. “The last thing in the world I am right now is disappointed.” One kiss, and they wanted each other all over again. “See what I mean?”

“Mmm...I'm a little confused. Show me?”

She didn't fall asleep again. But as she lay there, satisfied beyond any dream she'd ever had, the demon of reality snaked into her paradise. She sighed. “We should probably head home. It must be lunchtime, and I want to be there to supervise.”

Ford checked his watch. “Not quite noon. But almost.” Under her head, his chest rose and fell.

The spell had broken. Caroline sat up to look around for her clothes, and Ford did the same. When they'd both dressed, he put his arms around her and pulled her close. She pressed her face against his shirtfront, and they stood like that for a long, aching moment.

“Better go,” he said, finally. “Lunch will be over.”

Stepping away, she saw her tearstains on his shirt. “Sure.”

They took the folded blanket, the cooler and the bag of untouched food to the truck. At the last moment, Caroline went to the edge of the meadow and picked a single spike of the blue lupine blossoms. To her surprise, the flowers smelled deliciously sweet, like warm honey. The fragrance filled the truck cab as Ford drove them back to the ranch.

The fragrance of goodbye.

* * *

W
HILE
THE
OTHER
kids were practicing their rodeo skills, Nate took Blue for a long ride in one of the pastures beyond the field where the horses grazed. He didn't really know where he was going, but he figured following the fence line would bring him around to the gate eventually. The grown-ups probably wouldn't have allowed him out so far, but they tended to forget about him in the afternoons, which was great, as far as he was concerned. That was why he stayed quiet—people didn't notice if you took off to do your own thing.

He brought Blue home late in the day, about when the rodeo lessons were finishing up. Nobody had missed him, of course. Thomas and Marcos just wanted to brag about their bucking practice, Lena and Justino only talked to each other and Becky and Lizzie sat on the cabin porch with their phones. The usual routine. Funny how they'd all been so bored those first few days, and now this seemed like the only right place to be.

As he headed toward the bunkhouse, he noticed a cloud of dust on the road leading toward the ranch gate—a cloud that came in the wake of an approaching truck. Visitors weren't unusual at the Circle M, but this was a gray truck. His dad drove a gray truck.

Dread grabbed his throat as Nate waited for the confrontation he was pretty sure would be horrible.

The driver's door opened, and Travis Bradley dropped out of the seat. “Well, well, what have we here?” He slammed the door behind him. “Good to see you, boy. Wanted to come check out these fancy digs you got yourself into.” He stalked up to Nate and rubbed his head, messing up his hair. “Don't believe in haircuts, I guess. You might as well be a girl.”

He tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and circled around, surveying the ranch buildings. “This certainly is a fine place, ain't it? Big red barn, couple of houses, bunkhouse, corrals and fencing as far as the eye can follow. No wonder you're not at home.”

The other kids hadn't noticed anything yet, but it wouldn't take long. “Mom told you where I was?”

“Hell, no. Said she wasn't sure. I had to locate my own son by asking around at the rodeo. Wasn't hard, though—everybody recognized Ford Marshall from the Circle M.”

“What do you want?”

Travis grabbed his sleeve and jerked Nate closer. “Don't use that tone with me. I wanted to be sure my boy was in a decent place, that's all.” He shoved Nate away. “You doing some buckin' practice?”

“Not me. I just ride.”

“Of course. Why would I expect you to do something that took guts?”

The screen door on the house slapped shut. Nate glanced over at Mr. Ford, heading in their direction. “You should go, Dad. Please.”

“And not say hello? What kind of manners would that be?” He stepped around Nate and waited for Mr. Ford, hands at his sides like he was ready to draw his gun. “Hey, there, Mr. Marshall. I stopped by to visit Nate.”

“Welcome to the Circle M.” Mr. Ford didn't offer to shake hands, as Nate had watched him do with other men. “Nate's getting along just fine with us. He's got a real talent with horses.”

“Same as his daddy, if I do say so myself. I've broken my share of broncs, that's for sure.”

“What else can we do for you?”

Travis nodded toward the bucking barrel. “I noticed you're doing some rodeo training with the kids. I was wondering if you could use some experienced help.”

“We're good, thanks. Three of us have done rough-stock events—we've got it covered.”

“Well, with all these kids on your hands, you must have trouble getting the real work done. A seasoned ranch hand would be an asset. I'm glad to offer my services.”

“I heard you were working for the Donnelly Ranch.”

“Yeah, well, old man Donnelly and I didn't see eye to eye. I got tired of doing grunt work for that miserly bastard. I want a job cowboyin'. That's what I'm best at.”

“Thanks for the offer. There are four of us, though, so we've got everything under control.”

“You sure?” Travis sounded desperate. “I'm handy with cattle, fences, tractors...whatever a ranch requires, I can do it.”

“I'll keep you in mind, but we're okay for now.” Mr. Ford gestured toward the gray truck. “Let me walk you to your vehicle.”

Nate watched the expression on his dad's face shift to something ugly. “Throwin' me off your place? You steal my son and call it charity, but you won't give a decent, hardworking man a job?”

The other kids heard the yelling and looked over. Nate felt his face go red.

Mr. Ford stayed calm. “Don't make a scene, Mr. Bradley. Just leave.”

“Oh, I'll leave.” Travis marched to the truck. “But don't be surprised when everybody from here to Buffalo recognizes you for the cheap SOB you really are. Making tons of money as a fancy lawyer, but can't spare any for the ordinary folks at home.” He pulled open the door and threw himself behind the wheel. “You might've fooled people before. Not now.”

The gray truck reversed in a fast circle. Brakes squealed and the engine roared as Travis gunned the gas and shot down the road. If Honey had been anywhere nearby, she'd have been run over.

Mr. Ford stood with his hands on his hips, watching the truck disappear. Then he glanced at Nate. “I'm sorry I had to turn him down. But your dad's not a reliable worker.”

“Yeah.” Nate smoothed his hair. “I'm sorry he bothered you.”

“It's okay.” Mr. Ford put his hand on Nate's shoulder, but Nate braced himself not to lean into it. “We're glad to have you here, though. You're doing a great job with Blue.”

“Thanks.” He stepped away, and Mr. Ford let his hand fall. “I, uh, have to go cook dinner.”

“Great. I'm starved.” His smile seemed a little stiff, and Nate didn't believe he was happy. Mr. Ford was sad about going back to San Francisco; anybody could tell that. Being an adult evidently wasn't any easier than being a kid—at the mercy of somebody who was always angry, usually drunk and never kind.

He could predict what his dad's next move would be, of course. Fridays pretty much all ended the same way, with Travis coming in drunk at three or four in the morning, yelling to wake them all up, wanting food and company and noise to distract him from whatever bothered him at that moment. Tonight, it would be about getting rejected by the Marshalls. He'd get madder and madder until...