Lone Tree (6 page)

It was 3:00 p.m. when Lainie stepped outside the
air-conditioned house. And instantly she realized she’d done this backwards. In
the future, she’d spend the cooler mornings outside and the suffocatingly hot
afternoons inside. She debated about putting this off, but she was curious
about the elderly man she’d occasionally seen at the stable. She doubted it
could be Nelly, the stable keeper her mother had loved so much, but she had to
check it out.

No person was in sight when she entered the shade of
the outbuilding. Three of the six stalls were occupied and the nearest animal
whinnied, its head lifted toward Lainie as if acknowledging her.

Lainie and her parents had sometimes rented mounts
and spent the afternoons riding the beach, but not often; at the end of those
days, Elizabeth had been at her most melancholy, as if the experience had held
both joy and punishment. Now, without her mother there to guide her, Lainie
wondered if she dared approach the horse that seemed to be beckoning her.

“Glory take a liking to you,” said a voice behind
her, and Lainie spun.

The man was weathered and wrinkled, no taller than
she, and possibly only ten pounds or so heavier. He wore faded cotton work
pants that might’ve been navy blue at one time, and a striped blue and white
shirt tucked in without a belt. He looked amused that she was so startled.

“Nelly?” she breathed.

He hesitated for an instant, and then said, “Missy.”
Both his tone and eyes were full of welcome.

Her gaze faltered. Her mother had told her that had
been his pet name for her, and Lainie wondered if she’d tipped her hand by
calling him by name. Then she realized she’d been here long enough someone
could’ve told her his name. Missy most likely was his title for females whose
hair hadn’t yet turned gray.

She extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Lainie Johnson.”

“I know who you be.” He’d taken her hand in both of
his and held it in a loose, warm clasp, and his gaze was just as warm. She felt
strangely unable to break away, and his words had given her the uncanny feeling
that he knew exactly who she was.

“They already tell me your name,” he explained.

Well, of course they had. Pulling her hand free, she
looked at the horse in the nearest stall. “What did you say that horse’s name
is?”

“Glory. She be the youngest and the fastest and the
most gentle. And next to her be Irish. Mr. Reed like him. They a good match,
both steady and sure. And that last one there be Oatmeal. He plod along and get
the job done, but he gettin’ old and cranky.”

He pointed at the empty stalls in turn. “That one
there belong to Vindication, and he belong to Mr. Randy. Got too much spirit
for some, but not for Mr. Randy. And Andy and Mack bring Coco and Misty Morning
with ’em when they hired on for spring. They be over at the Lazy L right now.
We help them out, they help us.”

Lainie was touched by the way Nelly related his
horses’ histories and personalities as if they were family members. She asked,
“If Glory’s the most gentle, could I ride her?”

Glory neighed, shaking her mane, as if hearing
Lainie and endorsing her choice. Lainie laughed, and so did Nelly.

“She done told me she likes you. I reckon you be a
good pair. I put you up on her once you in your boots and ready to ride.”

Lainie hadn’t meant she wanted to ride now, but at
his words she swung back to face him. “In my boots?” She heard the snap in her
voice.

He didn’t appear fazed by her tone. “Mr. Reed say
not to give you a horse till you have your boots on and he be with you.”

“He be,” she echoed, then stopped. Nelly’s grammar
was contagious. “He has to be with me?”

“That’s what he said.”

Maybe she wouldn’t buy those boots after all. Giving
up on riding might be easier than bowing to that particular man’s orders.

“Maybe you have to do what he says,” she mumbled.
“But I don’t.”

Calmly, he nodded. “I do what Mr. Reed say, when
he’s right.”

She raised her chin. “And how often is that?”

“Most times. Not always.”

Lainie didn’t want to ask and yet she had to. “And
this time?”

“He’s right and you’re wrong.”

She just watched him. As Nelly stared blandly back,
she got the impression he trusted her to come up with the right course of
action in time. And she couldn’t fight that impression any more than she could
fight the man and the kindly way he had about him. She felt her stance ease.
Then she gave in to a chuckle and lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay. I’ll
come see you again after I get my boots.”

*

Supper was fried chicken, served cold with potato
salad and hot cornbread. For dessert, Lainie passed up the berry cobbler and
went back for a second serving of bread instead, sliced a big piece in half and
filled it with butter so it melted down the sides.

Reed arrived late. Carter, a likable and laconic
cowboy who looked a lot like a young Tom Selleck, had just vacated the seat
opposite Lainie. Reed claimed it and said, “Howdy.”

She glanced at him, nodded at his greeting. There
were plenty of other places where Reed could’ve sat, and she wished he’d chosen
one of them.

Reed’s plate held four pieces of chicken, a mountain
of potato salad, and an even bigger piece of cornbread than Lainie’s. He must
have an excellent metabolism in order to eat that much and stay so slim. Carter
was taller and heavier, but his plate hadn’t been nearly as full as Reed’s.

“Appears you like cornbread, too,” Reed observed.

She nodded without comment.

Finished with his first piece of chicken, Reed used
his napkin and glanced around with a questioning look, then said pointedly,
“Seems a mite chilly in here this evening.”

Uh-huh. Well, she had to deal with him eventually.
Lainie leaned back, pushed her plate away and gave him a level look, which he
returned.

“Smith, huh,” she said, for want of anything better
to say.

“And Johnson,” he replied.

Scintillating conversation they had going here. “All
we need is a Jones and we’d have several pages of the telephone book
represented.”

He grinned. “We’ve got one of them, too. Randy
Jones. Tall and skinny and young. Good wrangler, best we’ve got. You met him
yet?”

“No. But I met his girlfriend in town, Bobbie Ann,
and her sister, Jackie. They seemed like nice people.”

“They are. Jackie Lyn owns her own hairstyling
place. You’ll probably be going to her.” He glanced at her hair. “I like the
color, and the way you wear it.”

“Thanks.”

He selected a drumstick. “Eyes are on the pretty
side, too.”

Not even close to his, she thought, but remained
silent.

“I met Nelly today.” Her voice was carefully
noncommittal.

So was his. “Good man. Up in years, physically
frail, but still wise.” He finished the chicken leg. “Missed you at dinner.”

“That noon meal is so heavy it turns me off. I just
eat a sandwich. I explained to Miles, and,” she paused, feeling defensive but
trying to keep it out of her voice. “He doesn’t have a problem with my
problem.”

Reed shrugged, making light of her concern. “If
you’re thinking you appear antisocial by skipping dinner with everybody, don’t
worry about it. You’ve already been accepted into the family around here.”

She was surprised at his intuitiveness, and grateful
for it. Then, through with her meal, and having bridged the discord—well, at
least somewhat—between herself and the ranch foreman, she excused herself. As
she carried her dishes away, guessing his gaze followed her, she was aware that
although she felt more comfortable with the situation, she still wasn’t
comfortable with the man.

Once she was out of Reed’s sight, she found he was
still in her mind. Unwelcome realizations made her frown. The most troubling
fact was that her discomfort had little to do with the fact that Reed Smith was
bossy. It was due instead to the strong draw she felt every time she looked at
him, talked to him, thought about him, even when she was mad at him.

Closing her house door behind her, she leaned back
against it. Okay, define strong draw.

Being ruthlessly honest, she answered herself.
Sexual interest.

Then she exhaled in a long, drawn-out whoosh. She
needed this even less than she wanted a good kick in the rear. She was not
interested in a romantic liaison, especially one with her grandfather’s
foreman.

Although she and Reed hadn’t even shared a kiss—the
word
yet
popped up and she squeezed her eyes closed against it—she’d
looked at that sensual mouth a couple of times and thought about tasting it.
But she didn’t want to think about that. Neither did she want to think about
what it would feel like to have his arms wrapped around her...how hard and good
his body might feel next to hers.

Nope, she didn’t want her mind going there. But,
dammit, it was already there.

*

The next day, as Lainie exited the main house in the
early afternoon, she spied two men riding up on horseback. One wore a baseball
cap instead of a cowboy hat. That was enough to catch her attention, but the
other one looked like he just rode off a movie set. He was tall enough in the
saddle that he’d probably stand eye to eye with Miles, wore a traditional
high-crowned hat, was broad-shouldered and lean-hipped. The Marlboro man
without the Marlboro.

A short-haired, rangy-looking dog trotted alongside
the horses. Lainie was reminded of Reed’s comment about cow dogs being able to
run all day. This one looked like a well-trained, hard-working animal.

The tall cowboy gave Lainie a long look and bowed
his head. She nodded back. The two men dismounted and led their horses into the
stable. She was on her way to her car and had to pass the stable to get to the
enclosed shed that acted as a garage. The Marlboro man stepped out as she
approached.

He tipped his hat without removing it. “Mack
Jameson,” he said by way of greeting.

“Lainie Johnson.” She recognized his name. “You’ve
just arrived from the Lazy L Ranch. With Andy.”

“That I did. And it appears the old man might’ve
found his secretary.”

“That he did.”

He was somewhere between thirty and forty, had gray
eyes, maybe two days’ worth of whiskers. She had the nagging impression she’d
met him before.

He watched her with a thoughtful look, as if he
might have the same feeling she did. “You’re not from around here. You sound
like...the West Coast? California maybe?”

Lainie smiled. “You’re good.”

He returned the smile. “You’d make this good man a happy
one if you’d let him show you around this part of the country.”

Then his gaze lifted from hers at the same moment
she felt a presence behind her, and a hand then rested briefly on her shoulder.
“Oh.” She looked up, startled. “Reed. Hi.”

“Lainie. Howdy, Mack. It go all right?” Reed’s
thumbs were hooked inside his pockets as he spoke to Mack. His hand had left
Lainie’s shoulder as soon as it’d touched her.

“Yeah.” Mack turned the word into two lazy syllables.
“Two windmills went out on them, one right after the other.”

“So I heard. Dinner’s still out on the sideboard.”

“I’ll tell Andy. Soon as I see to Misty, I’ll see to
my stomach.”

The gaze Mack now rested on Lainie held more
distance than interest. “I see how it is,” he said as he tipped his hat, then
he turned back to the stable.

Lainie narrowed her eyes as she watched his back.
I
see how it is
?

“Where you off to?” Reed asked.

She turned in time to catch him checking out her
sandals, but she didn’t respond to the implied assumption he had a right to
know where she was going if she wasn’t wearing recommended footgear. Actually,
she was going into town to buy the boots, but he didn’t need to know that.

She tilted her head, squinted at him. “Did you just
do what I think you did?”

His brow wrinkled. “That’d depend on what you think
I did.”

“You warned him away from me.”

“Warned him,” he repeated, expression turning
quizzical.

“You put your hand on my shoulder, my far shoulder
so your arm had to go all the way around me. You couldn’t have said it plainer.
She’s mine, stay away.”

He gave her a perplexed shake of his head. “I
touched you in passing, like saying hello. Don’t know where you—”

“Uh-huh. You were laying claim, Reed, and I don’t
appreciate—”

“You hear yourself?” Amusement in his eyes, he
rocked back on his heels. “You think it’s all right for one person to lay claim
on another?”

“No, I did
no
t say that. What I said was—”

“Howdy, Reed.”

Reed glanced away, bobbed his head. “Andy. Glad to
have you back. Meet Lainie Johnson, Miles’s secretary.”