One Stubborn Cowboy (2 page)

* * *

Kit Lockford drove his pickup at breakneck speed. But his mind was not on his driving—he was wondering who the woman was. He'd never seen her before, didn't have a clue to who she was or why she was in town. But Jefferies obviously knew her. Was she visiting, or had she recently moved in?

He grinned, remembering how she'd yelled at him. No brains probably, like most blondes. And pretty at that with her long, white-blond hair and big, sky blue eyes. Her figure wasn't bad, either. He chuckled at the dumb-blonde stereotype, not believing it for a moment, but he bet it would make her mad as hell to hear him say it.

He tried to recall if he'd seen a ring on her left hand. She'd been holding some sort of pad, but he didn't think she had a ring. For a moment he thought about turning around and heading back for B.J.'s Feed and Grain, to see if she was still there. See if she'd light into him again with her complaints about his driving.

She sure had guts, he thought, thinking about her temper with another grin. He was a big man, had a bad temper himself. Yet she'd yelled at him as no one had in years. His grin faded. And she'd probably never do it again. He hated the way everyone tried to coddle him, to tiptoe around him. Once she found out about him, she'd be like the rest. Damn!

Turning in to the driveway that led home some time later, he turned his thoughts elsewhere. No use thinking of the woman. They'd probably never meet again. Or if they did, it would be after she knew all about Kit Lockford, and her attitude would be different. He wished he could see her once more before she knew. He'd hate to see pity from her eyes. But it would be too much to hope he'd escape it.

* * *

"You stay away from young Kit Lockford," Molly Benson admonished Kelly later that afternoon.

Kelly looked up at her next-door neighbor in surprise, her eyes dancing in amusement. "How did you know I met him?" He now had a last name. Lockford.

The two were sipping iced tea, beneath the large oak tree that straddled their property line. Kelly had visited with the old woman almost every day since she had arrived in Taylorville five days ago. Molly Benson was in her eighties. She'd been a friend of Kelly's great-aunt, and Kelly wanted to learn as much about her as she could. Molly had endless stories to tell about when the two of them had been girls.

"Small town, news travels fast," Molly said gently.

"We weren't actually introduced." Kelly said in remembrance, the incident almost amusing in retrospect, now that she could forget how frightened she'd been. Actually, she was having trouble not thinking about the cowboy.

"You probably won't be introduced any time soon. He and his brother own one of the big ranches outside town. Raise cattle, naturally. Kit doesn't come in much anymore. How Clint puts up with him, I just don't know." Molly shook her head, gazing across her yard toward the grassy hills in the distance.

"A hellion, huh?" Kelly asked, remembering what Jefferies had said. She was curious about the man, and wondered what Molly would tell her.

"He was always chasing wild times and wild women. I didn't think he'd ever settle down. He was hotheaded and stubborn, thought he was God's gift to the ladies and wanted to pleasure as many as he could when he was younger."

Kelly hid a smile and glanced away. How odd to hear that from Molly. She seemed too much an old-fashioned lady to even know about wild young men and their pleasures, much less mention it in public.

"But he doesn't come to town much anymore?" Kelly asked. How could she learn more without Molly suspecting her interest? Kelly was oddly shy about showing overt interest in the man. Though her curiosity was raging.

"No. Which is probably a good thing. At least the girls are safe again."

Kelly couldn't help smiling broadly at that. She'd only seen the man for a few moments, but she could understand how some women would be drawn to him. He was raw sexy masculinity personified. Even angry, he'd stopped and looked at her, really looked at her, and made her feel every inch a woman. For a few seconds she let herself imagine what it would be like to have him look at her when he wasn't angry. She wasn't prepared for the surge of desire and anticipation that swept through her at the thought. It shook her.

Whoa, girl, no use thinking in those terms. She'd be way out of her depth with that man. She was used to the conservative businessmen and gentle artists she knew from San Francisco. Not an earthy, brash, wild cowboy looking to pleasure any woman around.

* * *

Fixing dinner that night, Kelly was pleased when she realized how completely satisfied she was with her new lifestyle. Amazing to think she'd only lived here for a few days.

It had been an experiment, moving to Taylorville. Yet it seemed destined, somehow. When she had first learned of her inheritance, the large old house in the heart of a small ranching community in the Sierra Nevada foothills, she'd been shocked. She hadn't even known she had a great-aunt and had never expected an inheritance. She had always thought of herself as alone. Orphaned when young, she had not known of any living relatives. It had been kind of her unknown aunt to leave her the house, but she wished she had tried to contact her while she'd been alive.

She smiled wryly as she set the table, remembering how her friends had taken the news of her move. Maybe she was crazy as they'd said. But she was tired of traffic jams, rude street people and the growing crime rate in San Francisco.

She wanted to try a change of life-style. And being a writer, she could work anywhere, so why not move?

Her friends had greeted her news with incredulity, disbelief, flat-out denial. Her agent thought she'd lost her mind; her friend Susan suspected a man was involved; and her neighbor David refused to believe she was serious, even when he helped her pack her car.

"You'll be back in a week," he'd said in continued disbelief. "If you last that long."

Kelly only smiled. They'd been friends for years, and knew each other well. He could be right, though she wasn't planning on it. She wanted to make the change. Now the first week was drawing to a close and she wasn't ready to leave yet. The experiment had just begun, and so far she relished the change!

Looking back over the five days, Kelly was astonished at how easily she'd transplanted. Reared in various neighborhoods of San Francisco, her only previous experience with the country had been forays into Golden Gate Park, and one long weekend in Yosemite. Yet she found the quiet, slow pace of life easy to adjust to, and in only a few days she felt as if she'd always had a place in Taylorville, as if she belonged. And that was a wonderful feeling, one she'd been looking for all her life. To belong.

* * *

The next morning Kelly studied her sketches, deciding which she would paint. Her charcoal renditions of the feed store were good. Just needed a touch here and there. She was still trying to formulate a story line that would incorporate the store. Without meaning to, she began to think about her encounter yesterday.

Startled, she realized she was sketching Kit Lockford. She started to rip out the page, hesitated, then changed her mind. Concentrating on his image, she quickly added bold strokes to the picture. The likeness was perfect. She'd done a good job capturing his hostility, and the hidden but discernible aching hurt.

She paused and stared at the picture in disbelief. Why in the world would she think there was hurt reflected in those bold, stormy eyes? A more self-confident, arrogant,
irritating
man she had yet to meet. He acted as if he owned the whole damn town. Or at least the road that ran through it. And his look when he'd surveyed her had definitely been insolent male appraisal.

Flipping over her page, she began another picture. She wouldn't think about Kit Lockford again. Blast the man, she'd only talked to him for about four minutes—why couldn't she forget the incident? Forget the way he looked, forget the way she tensed up inside whenever she remembered how he'd raked her with his gaze.

She sketched a small black pony, dozing alone in a field. She'd seen the pony on one of her driving explorations around the county and had immediately wanted a story centered around him. But she didn't like the sketch. Tearing it up, she tried again. It just wasn't right. Somehow she wasn't getting the proper perspective. Frustrated, Kelly stood, stretched and went to her window. She needed to see some horses in action. Her pony was too stiff, too artificial.

Her eyes lit up. There were ranches all around. Surely she could visit one and study their horses, watch how they moved, capture the action on paper.

As she turned, the thought flashed in her mind that Kit Lockford had a ranch. Of course he'd have horses on it—it was a working cattle ranch according to Molly. Not that she'd go to his ranch. She'd ask around town for someone to recommend a ranch. If they recommended the Lockford place, maybe she'd go. A bubble of excitement grew as she considered visiting his ranch. Would he let her sketch his horses? Or would he still be angry at her for calling him an idiot and refuse? Well, there were other ranches.

Buoyed by her plan, Kelly dressed in jeans and a cool cotton top, smiling as she did so. She felt so Western in her new attire. It was a warm May morning, and would grow hotter as the day progressed. Heading for the center of the small town, she soon left the dusty shoulder of the highway and stepped on the wooden sidewalk that served Main Street.

Kelly entered the local general store and felt as if she'd stepped back in time. The wooden floor was unevenly worn and creaking, totally unlike the sterile linoleum of the supermarkets she was used to. The shelves, tables and counters were loaded with everything a person could need, from jeans and boots to beans and sausage. It had none of the sleek, streamlined look of a supermarket, yet carried a wide range of products. Kelly took a deep breath. The slightly musty smell was unique and she knew she'd always visualize this place in the future by the scent alone.

Molly had introduced Kelly to the owner, Beth Stapleton, when she'd first arrived. Beth was in the rear of the store, talking with another young woman. The customer was a few years younger than Beth, younger even than Kelly. Both women were dressed in similar jeans and cotton checked tops. Kelly felt at ease as she headed toward the rear of the store to join them.

"Hi, Kelly, come on back. Here's someone I don't think you've met yet." Beth called a welcome.

Kelly was amazed at the recognition, at the cheery reception. Such a thing rarely happened in San Francisco.

"Kelly Adams, this is Sally Lockford."

Kelly's eyes widened at the name, color receding a little from her cheeks. Disappointment unexpectedly coursed through her.
He was married.
Why hadn't she thought of that? She had assumed he was single. Yet Molly had talked as if his hell-raising days were gone. She should have guessed why.

Masking her feelings, Kelly smiled politely and greeted her. Studying the other woman, Kelly realized she was not long out of her teens. Tall and slim, she had rich, honey blond hair, not pale, white-blond like Kelly's. Her eyes were gray, not blue.

So this was the woman who had tamed the hell-raiser. How had she done it? She looked quiet and shy and far too young.

"I'm so pleased to meet you," Sally said. "I bought one of your books for my niece's last birthday.
Amy and the Giant Pancake.
She loved it
."

"That one was fun to write. I'm so glad she liked it. Just right for little girls, I thought." Kelly smiled. It was always nice to hear praise about her work.

"Are you working on another book now?" Sally asked.

"Yes. In fact, Beth, that's why I'm here. I'm having trouble sketching a pony. I can't get the sketches right—the pony seems too stiff. I wondered if you could introduce me to someone who has horses? Maybe I could go and watch them in action, get a better feel for how horses move."

"Would a real pony do? We have one for the kids," Sally said. "We'd love to have you use ours as a model."

Kelly looked at Sally in surprise. There were children? She must be older than she looked. Again she felt a sinking within her, a wave of disappointment. She should have known better. He was too handsome and exciting to still be single. And she was foolish beyond belief to think he would want to see her again, based on one shouting match in the middle of the street.

"Good idea," Beth agreed. "Ponies are usually stockier than horses, shorter legs. You'd get a better perspective, Kelly, using an actual pony."

"That's very kind," Kelly replied slowly. Now that she could see Kit Lockford again, it would be in his home with his wife and children. The prospect was no longer quiet so appealing.