Lone Tree (8 page)

Smoothing strands of hair behind her ears, she
stopped in mid-motion. Abruptly she pulled out the desk’s bottom drawer,
reached for the phone book, and looked up the number
of Jackie’s Style
.
As she punched in the numbers, mentally she crossed her fingers. Yes, she
needed a haircut, but she was hoping for more than that from Jackie Lyn. Except
for Rosalie, Lainie was surrounded by masculinity. She yearned for a friend of
her own sex and age with whom she could put her feet up and just talk about
girl things.

When she arrived for her appointment the next
afternoon, she discovered Jackie Lyn was good at her job. Better yet, she was
intuitive. After draping the protective sheet around her customer’s shoulders,
Jackie’s gaze met Lainie’s in the mirror.

“Glad you called,” Jackie said. “Been thinking about
you out there with all those men. After a while, I bet it gets old.”

“Oh, yeah. In fact, I was wondering if I could treat
you to lunch sometime. Er, dinner, I mean, unless supper would be better...it’s
more informal.” She laughed at herself. “Sorry. Guess I’m still mixed up with—”

“Do you know how to make potato salad?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then bring a bowl of it to my house tomorrow
night—I’ll give you directions—and I’ll fry up hamburgers to go with it. Sound
good?”

“Sounds great.”

*

Jackie lived in a small house on a side street
within walking distance of her shop. She opened the door and motioned for her
guest to come in. “Don’t stand there on ceremony, girl. I’m hungry.”

Lainie sliced a tomato and onion at the counter in
the bright-white kitchen with light-green trim while her hostess fried
hamburgers. “Lot of folks say they’re better on a grill,” Jackie said. “But I
don’t have a grill. And even if I had one, I don’t know how to cook inside and
outside at the same time. You know how to play dominoes?”

“Yes.” Lainie squinted at her. “It’s hard keeping up
with you. Does your conversation always jump all over the place?”

Jackie carried the plate of hamburgers to the small
round table in front of the window. “Here’s another jump. Either one of those
two eligible bachelors out there appeal to you?”

“I thought they were all bachelors except Glen
Charles. No, wait a minute. Carter’s married. He said something about his wife
the other day. And Randy is spoken for. And—”

“Miles is too old. Nelly’s even older. Andy just
started shaving a couple months back. Luke is divorced and soured on women.
That leaves Mack and Reed. You got anybody back home?”

“No. I did, until about six months ago. Name was
Jason. We were engaged, but...the relationship lacked depth. The relationship
and the man.” She took a bite of the hamburger sandwich, then said around it,
“How about you?”

“Same here. There was someone once. It wasn’t good.”

“So,” Lainie said, returning the question to the
questioner, “either one of those bachelors appeal to you?” If Jackie had
designs on Reed, Lainie figured she better find out now, and was even hoping
that was the case because it’d make it easier to resist him.

“Well, now,” Jackie said. “I was never one to stand
in line. And Mack not only likes the women, they like him back.”

Lainie grinned. Mack hadn’t tried to hide that fact
about himself. Due to Reed’s reaction, she wouldn’t have to ward off advances
from the tall cowboy—but she still had to counter the moves from that
particular blue-eyed one who was discouraging everyone else.

“And Reed’s a good friend, always has been,” Jackie
went on. “Nothing romantic there.” Her gaze lowered to the green-print
tablecloth, but she appeared to be looking inward. “Just happened to remember.
When I first met Reed, I was already involved with...with that someone I told
you about. His name was Carl Henry. Worst mistake I ever made in my life.”

Jackie grew quiet, then looked up with a quick jerk
of her head. “Pass me that bowl of salad. It was good enough I need seconds.”

Carl Henry Mason slammed his fist onto the top of the
cot. The steel-mesh frame beneath the flimsy mattress bruised his knuckles.

Stupid to be hurting himself, really stupid, and
that only infuriated him more. But there was no one around for him to hit so he
slammed the mattress again, this time with his open palm, pulling back just
enough to protect himself.

His parole hearing had been postponed. They could do
that, any shitty time they wanted—didn’t even have to have a reason. It’d still
happen, in time, but that was no consolation. He’d spent enough time in this
hellhole and he wanted out. Now. There were a couple people in his hometown he
wanted to visit.

He whirled, spotted a magazine on the metal shelf
bracketed into the wall, swept it to the floor and then stomped it into shreds.
Wasn’t his magazine anyway; it belonged to Maynard, his cellmate and huge big
pain in the ass.

Maynard had been complaining about a toothache. It
was the tooth Carl Henry had broken for him, but Maynard had enough sense not
to mention that fact. The dentist was scheduled for today, and the whining
windbag had complained long and loud enough he’d gotten in to see him. So he
wasn’t here to hit, and Carl Henry had to hurt himself by hitting the damn,
stinking mattress.

He wondered who was responsible for the parole
postponement. Some bleeding heart, probably a dumb-ass woman scared of her own
shadow. Couldn’t make a move without a man standing over her with his fists and
telling her what to do. Like his ma. His old man sure had beat the crap out of
her. She’d probably deserved it. But when he’d started in on Carl Henry, just a
little kid, wasn’t it a mother’s job to stand up for her son? Not huddle over
there hiding her face in her hands, cowed and whimpering, when she’d known damn
well begging wasn’t going to help.

Mason Sr. had left his son alone once his son got
big enough to fight back, but he’d still be using his wife for a punching bag
if he hadn’t keeled over drunk one night and never woke up. His ma had come
into some insurance money there, but wouldn’t you know it? Carl wasn’t around
to help her spend it.

His brow furrowed as his mind returned to the parole
board. He’d had that wrong, he realized; a bleeding heart would be on his side,
would believe in rehabilitation and giving a man a chance. Then a second and
third and fourth, someone who’d just keep giving a man a chance until he either
proved you right or died, whichever came first. Carl Henry knew that kind; he
counted on them.

So the term he wanted was bitch. It’d been a plain
and simple, ball-breaking bitch who’d nixed his parole hearing. He looked for
something else to hit, something he could wallop on real good without hurting
himself.

Randy Jones and Vindication melded into one as soon
as Randy settled in the saddle. Shoulders level, back straight, hips barely
moving with the motion of the horse, Randy’s horsemanship would’ve outshone
even Mack Jameson’s. After ten minutes Randy had yet to offer any riding tips,
but Lainie doubted that was because none came to mind.

“Okay, teacher,” she’d said as she and Glory had
followed Randy and his mount out of the stable, and then she’d watched the
man’s back tighten up as if he were in pain.

Okay. So much for student and teacher. She gave it a
couple of minutes, then tried for two people conversing while riding on horses.
“Shade’s hard to come by around here.” Again his shoulders hunched. Lainie
doubted that it was her voice grating on him. The fact that she was female,
maybe? Words had come easily enough as he’d conversed with Nelly about saddle
soap.

She recognized his headgear. The high crown added
inches he didn’t need and the hat had a wide, floppy brim. Thank goodness he’d
removed the feather. “I see you’re wearing your new hat. I met Bobbie and her
sister when they were shopping for it.”

The comment must’ve been too personal. His face
turned deepening shades of crimson.

Out of sympathy for him, she grew quiet and stared
at the terrain. Thorny mesquite dotted the dusty flatland along with some
hawthorn, and an occasional gully broke its monotony. Judging by the dried look
of the unmistakable evidence they’d left behind, she guessed it’d been a while
since cows had been through here.

Once he realized she didn’t bite, Randy might ease
up. For now, however, he rode alongside just to make sure she didn’t fall off,
get lost, or vaporize into thin air. She gave it five more minutes and called
it quits. His relief was almost comical, but she didn’t take it personally.

That evening she caught Reed on his way into the
main house. He paused, probably realizing she wanted to talk. She waited until
Carter, who’d entered with him, moved on ahead.

“So how did it go today?” Reed asked, prompting her.

“Uh, well, don’t misunderstand, but, uh, well...”

He grinned, and made a keep going, circular gesture
with his hand. “Go ahead. You can do it. You can get it out.”

“Randy’s shy. That’s the worst punishment you
could’ve inflicted upon him, sending him out with me today. I don’t have a
problem with him, don’t get me wrong, but he’s scared to death of me.”

He chuckled. “Yep, he’s on the shy side. Sometimes I
wonder how he worked up the courage to even say hello to Bobbie Ann, yet
they’re engaged to be married.”

“Believe me. If she hadn’t said it first, they’d
still be strangers.”

His chuckle deepened. “Okay. Next time you go out,
ask Carter. He won’t talk your ear off, but he won’t turn red and stay that way
until you return to the ranch, either. I’ll ask him to make time for you.”

“Thanks. And I’ll concentrate on being
non-threatening.”

Carter was neither gabby nor shy and was a conservative
teacher. He concentrated on commands, as Reed had, but would allow nothing more
than a walk. Neither had Randy, and Lainie was looking forward to Reed’s return
and more riding variety.

She learned that Carter’s wife lived in Big Spring
and worked in a bank. He went home on weekends, but lived at the ranch during
the week. The arrangement had worked well for three years now, and they felt
that instead of detracting from their marriage, it enhanced it.

“If it works,” Lainie said, and let the words hang.

As they headed back, she said, “Miles is the only
man I’ve never seen at the stable. From conversation I’ve overheard, I assume
he simply doesn’t like horses.”

“Might be. Been here five years now and haven’t seen
him on one. Heard his wife was killed in a riding accident, so maybe the old
man never forgave the species.”

Lainie noticed that many used that phrase, the old
man, when referring to Miles. It wasn’t used in a derogatory sense, however;
instead it was a title of respect, even affection.

Today she’d assisted Nelly in saddling Glory, and
she helped groom the horse when they returned. As she worked under the
stableman’s gentle tutelage, she became aware she was no longer sore from
riding. She was getting to be an old hand at this. She grinned, proud of
herself, and caught Nelly’s answering smile.

“Yes’m. You be learnin’ fast, little missy.”

There was nothing he missed.

As Reed had said, he was busy. She didn’t see him
for three days, then found him alone at the table when she arrived late for
supper. Looking at the sideboard, she realized it was best not to be late. A
portion of a macaroni and cheese casserole was left, along with a platter of
sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, and that was it.

She sat opposite Reed, who pushed his empty plate
aside and gave her a half-smile. As he settled back and hooked his thumbs
inside his belt, his expression made her think mischief lurked behind his
smile.

Uh-oh. A grownup with mischief on his mind.
Especially this particular grownup.

He roused himself to ask a question, “You miss
California?”

“Well, yeah.” The casserole was crusty on top and
cheesy in the middle. “But I’ve been too busy to really get homesick. A lot to
do, more to learn.” The ranch, how it worked, the people, her job. And figuring
out who her grandfather was, way down deep where it counted.

“No one particular person you’re missing, then.”

“No,” she said, getting his drift. The glint dancing
in his eyes was hard not to answer, and she had to clamp teeth on her bottom
lip to keep from flirting back. But she was more certain now than when she’d
met him that he could prove to be big trouble. She stabbed the last chunk of
cucumber on her plate.

“Well, goodnight,” she said, pushing away from the
table.

Reed was still seated when she stood and turned
away, yet somehow he beat her to the sideboard. Politely he pointed toward the
bin where she could deposit her plate and utensils, as if she hadn’t used it
countless times already and knew exactly where it was. Then when she turned
toward the door leading to the hall, she found him right in front of her again,
with the devil still in his eyes.

She gave him a cool smile. Which was all he was
going to get from her. “Back off, cowboy,” she said, making her voice both
light and firm.