Palomino (13 page)

And that's why you're here? It was a very direct question and she looked at him for a minute before answering.

Partially. As she answered he found himself wondering if she had had a nervous breakdown. He was sure that there was a serious reason why she had come to the ranch, and he was also sure that this was not just an ordinary housewife running away from home. But there was nothing to indicate that she was even slightly crazy. He really had no clue.

Samantha, what do you do when you're not in California working on ranches?

She didn't really want to answer but she liked his openness as he stood there talking to her. She didn't want to spoil their working relationship by being cute with glib answers and scaring him away. This was a man she liked and respected, sometimes detested, but thought was good at his job. What was the point of playing games with him now?

I write commercials. It was an oversimplification of her job, but it was a start. In an odd way she was not unlike the assistant foreman at Crane, Harper, and Laub. Realizing that suddenly made her smile.

What's so funny? He looked puzzled as he watched her.

Nothing. I just realized that in some ways our jobs are alike. At the advertising agency where I work there's a man named Harvey Maxwell. He's kind of like Bill King. And he's also old and one of these days he's going to retire, and Suddenly she was sorry she had said it. All he would do is resent her if he thought she was going to step into the man's job, but Tate Jordan was smiling as she abruptly ended her recital.

Go ahead, say it.

Say what? She tried hard to look blank.

That you'll probably get his job.

What makes you think that? Despite the fresh suntan she was blushing. I didn't say that.

You didn't have to. You said our jobs were alike. So you're an assistant foreman, are you? For some reason she couldn't fathom, he looked pleased, as though that amused him. Very nice. Do you like what you do?

Sometimes. Sometimes it's hectic and crazy and I hate it.

At least you don't have to ride twelve hours in the rain.

There is that. She returned the smile, suddenly intrigued by this big gentle man who had been so harsh and so demanding during her first days on the ranch, and so livid with her for riding Black Beauty, and now he seemed like a totally different person as they drank coffee and ate cookies next to the Christmas tree. She looked at him closely for a moment and then decided to ask him something. She suddenly felt that she had nothing to lose. As he stood there he looked impossible to anger, impossible to annoy. Tell me something. Why did you get so furious with me for riding Black Beauty?

He stood very still for a moment and then set down his coffee cup and looked deep into her eyes. Because I thought it was dangerous for you.

Because you didn't think I was good enough to ride him? This time it wasn't a challenge, it was a straight question, and he gave her a straight answer.

No, I knew you were good enough that first day. The way you sat on Rusty in the pouring rain and even got a little work out of the old nag, I knew damn well you were good. But it takes more than that to ride Black Beauty. It takes caution and strength, and I'm not sure you're long on either. In fact I'm sure you're not. One day that horse is going to kill somebody. I didn't want it to be yoti. He paused for a moment, his voice husky. Miss Caroline should never have bought him. He's a bad horse, Sam. He looked at her strangely. I feel it in my gut. He frightens me. And then he startled her again by speaking ever so softly. I don't want you to ride him again. She said nothing in answer, and after a long moment she looked away. But that's not like you, is it? To turn down a challenge, to pass up a risk? Maybe especially now.

What do you mean by that? She was puzzled by what he had just said.

He looked her straight in the eye again as he answered. I have the feeling you've lost something very precious to you ' someone, most likely that's the only thing most of us give a damn about. Maybe right now you don't care about yourself as much as you should. That's a bad time to ride a demon horse like that stallion. I'd rather see you on any horse on the ranch except that one. But I don't suppose you'd give up riding a Thoroughbred stallion just for me. She wasn't sure what to say to him when he stopped talking, and her voice was husky when she answered at last.

You're right about a lot of things, Tate. His name was new and strange on her lips, and when she lifted her eyes to his, her voice grew softer. I was wrong to ride him the way I did. I took a lot of chances that morning. And then after a brief pause, I won't promise you that I won't ride him again, but when I do, I'll be careful. I will promise you that. Broad daylight, terrain I know, no jumping over a rock bed and a stream I can barely see.'

My God, how reasonable! He looked down at her and grinned. I'm impressed! He was teasing her and she grinned.

You should be! You can't imagine the crazy things I've done on horses over the years.

You ought to quit doing stuff like that, Sam. It's not worth the price you may have to pay. They both fell silent for a moment. They both knew of the accidents that befell others, the paraplegics who spent the rest of their lives in wheelchairs because they risked a mad jump and fell. I never did see the point of that crazy Eastern jumping. Christ, you can kill yourself like that, Sam. Is it worth it?

She let her eyes drift into his. Does it matter?

He looked at her long and hard. It may not matter to you right now, Sam. But one of these days it will again. Don't do something foolish. You can't change that back. She nodded slowly and smiled. He was a strange and perceptive man, and she could see that he had qualities she hadn't originally noticed. At first she had seen him only as a tyrannical but effective assistant foreman. Now she saw that he was a man of much greater depth. The years he had spent around people and ranchers and ranch hands, living and losing and working till he almost dropped, hadn't been wasted. He had learned what he did well, and along with it he had learned to read people no simple art. More coffee? He looked down at her again with a small smile and she shook her head.

No, thanks, Tate. This time his name seemed easier on her lips. I should be moving on. I'm on the cookie-making detail. What about you? He grinned at her and stretched to whisper in her ear.

I'm Santa. He said it with mixed embarrassment and glee.

What? She looked at him with confused amusement, not sure if he was kidding.

I'm Santa. He said it again, barely doing more than mouth the words, and then, leaning closer to her, he explained. Every year I get all dressed up in a costume and Miss Caroline's got this huge bag of toys for the kids. I play Santa.

Oh, Tate, you?

Hell, I'm the tallest guy here. It makes sense. He tried to pass it off as ordinary but it was obvious that he enjoyed it. The kids really make it all worthwhile. And then he looked down at her questioningly again. You got kids?

She shook her head slowly, her eyes giving away nothing of the emptiness she felt. You? She had momentarily forgotten the ranch gossip she'd heard from Josh.

I've got one. Works on a ranch near here now. He's a good kid.

Does he look like you?

Nope. Not at all. He's kind of slight and redheaded like his mother. He smiled slowly as he said it, thinking of the boy with obvious pride.

Her voice was husky again when she spoke to him. You're a very lucky man.

I think so too. He smiled at her. And then his voice lowered again as it almost caressed her. But don't worry, little palomino, one of these days you're gonna be lucky too. He touched her gently on the shoulder then and moved on.

Santa ' Santa! ' Over here.'

Now just a minute, Sally. You've got to wait for me to come over to that side of the room. Tate Jordan in the heavy white beard and red velvet costume was slowly making his way around the room, endowing each child with a much awaited present, bestowing candy canes and other candies, pats on the cheek, hugs, and even kisses. It was a side of Tate Jordan that no one knew except the people who saw him do this every year on the ranch. It made one actually believe in Santa, just to watch him chuckle and cavort and pull yet another surprise from his enormous sack. Had he not told her earlier that evening that he was playing Santa, Samantha would never have suspected that it was he. Even his voice sounded different as he chatted and chuckled gently, exhorting children to be good to their mommies and their daddies this year, to stop teasing their little sisters, to do their homework, and to stop being mean to the cat or the dog. He seemed to know everything about everyone, which of course wasn't difficult on a ranch. But as they touched him and were touched by him, the children were ecstatic, and even Samantha was caught up in the magic of his ho ho ho. The entire performance seemed to take him hours, and when he was through, after eating a whole plate of cookies and six glasses of milk, he vanished with a last Ho ho ho toward the barn, not to be seen again for another year.

Forty-five minutes later, bereft of makeup, padded belly, white wig, and red suit, he reappeared in the main hall, unnoticed as he wandered through the crowd admiring the toys and the dolls and tickling and teasing the children. Soon he made his way to where Samantha stood, with Bill and Caroline, in a simple black velvet skirt with a very pretty white lace blouse. Her hair was knotted loosely at her neck and tied with a black velvet ribbon, and she was wearing makeup for the first time since she had come to the ranch.

Is that you, Sam? he teased after accepting a glass of punch and a fervent thank-you to his employer.

I could say the same to you, you know. And then in a soft voice, That was just terrific. Are you that good every year?

I get better and better. He grinned happily. The Santa Claus role always made Christmas for him.

Is your son here?

No. He shook his head quickly. Jeff's boss isn't as generous as mine. He smiled at Samantha. He's working tonight.

That's too bad. She looked genuinely sorry.

I'll see him tomorrow. And it's all right. He's a big guy now. He doesn't have time for his old man. But there was no resentment as he said it. He had enjoyed watching his son become a man. For a moment he wanted to ask Samantha why she had had no children, he had been watching her all evening as she hungrily eyed all the little boys and girls, but he finally decided that it was far too personal a question and he settled instead for a question about New York.

It's a lot colder there, but I don't think I've ever been anywhere where there's as much Christmas spirit as this.

That has nothing to do with California. That's Caroline Lord, and nothing else. Samantha nodded, and this time when they exchanged a smile their eyes met and held.

Shortly thereafter Samantha met Josh's wife and two of his married children, and a number of the men she'd been riding with for the last two weeks sheepishly brought her their wives or their girl friends, their sons and their daughters and their nieces, and for the first time since she'd come there, she knew that she belonged.

Well, Sam? Very different from your usual Christmas? Caroline was looking at her with a warm smile and Bill was standing nearby.

Very different. And I love it.

I'm glad. It was only a few minutes after Caroline had warmly hugged her and wished her a merry Christmas that Samantha noticed that she seemed to have disappeared. And shortly thereafter she realized that the old foreman had too. She wondered how many others had noticed. But Samantha was equally aware of the fact that she never heard any gossip about them on the ranch. She wondered if perhaps she was jumping to inappropriate conclusions. It didn't seem likely that she was, but one never knew.

Tired? It was Tate Jordan's voice just above her again, and she turned toward him with a little nod.

I was just about to go back to the house. I was looking for Aunt Caro, but I guess she's already gone.

She always leaves quietly so as not to spoil anyone's fun. He spoke with nothing but the greatest admiration. It was a bond that he shared with Sam. Are you ready to go too? Sam nodded and tried unsuccessfully to squelch a yawn. Come on, sleepyhead, I'll walk you home.

Can I help it if the guy I work for is a slave driver? It's a wonder I don't fall out of my saddle half dead by the end of the day.

Once or twice he grinned at her I thought you might. And then he laughed out loud. That first day, Sam, I thought you'd stick it out if you died in the saddle.

I almost did. Josh almost had to carry me home.

And you still got up on Black Beauty after that! You're crazy!

About that horse ' yes! He looked unhappy after she said it, and she changed the subject as they stepped into the frosty night. Feels like snow.

It does, but it's not very likely. At least I hope not. He looked up at the sky but didn't seem overly concerned. And by then they had already reached the door of the big house, where Sam lived.

Samantha hesitated for a moment and then as she opened the door she stepped aside and looked up at the dark-haired giant with the deep green eyes. Would you like to come in, Tate, for a glass of wine or a cup of coffee? But he was quick to shake his head, almost as though she had suggested something outrageous that he could never accept.

I promise, she said, grinning at him, I won't attack you. I'll sit on another couch. He let out a roar of laughter as she said it, and it was difficult to recognize the man she had been at odds with for more than two weeks.

It's not that, but ranch etiquette, I guess. This is Miss Caroline's house. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to ' it's difficult to explain.'

Samantha smiled at him pleasantly from the doorway. Would you like me to wake her so she can ask you in herself?

He rolled his eyes. Hardly, but thanks for the thought. Another time.

Chicken. She looked like a kid as she stood there, and he laughed.

Because she had done so for the past ten days, Samantha woke up at four thirty the next morning. She forced herself to lie in bed, pretending even to herself to be asleep, and finally, after an hour of lying with her eyes closed and her mind racing, she got out of bed. It was still dark outside and the stars were shining brightly, but she knew that in little over an hour, life on the ranch would begin. Christmas morning or no, the animals would begin stirring, there would be men in the corral tending to the horses, even though no one would be riding the hills.

On bare feet Samantha silently padded to the kitchen, plugged in the electric coffee maker Caroline used, and then sat waiting in the dark kitchen, letting her mind drift back to the night before. It had been a lovely Christmas party she had shared with the others. Like one gigantic family, all of them linked to each other, each one caring about the other, the children familiar with everyone who lived there, happy and shouting and running around the big beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Thinking about the children at the Christmas party the night before suddenly made her think of Charlie and Melinda's children. This was the first Christmas that she hadn't sent them gifts. She remembered her promise to Charlie with a pang, but she had been nowhere near a store. As Samantha sat in the empty kitchen she felt suddenly very lonely, and without warning, her thoughts shifted instantly and very painfully to John. What was his Christmas like this year? How did it feel to be married to a woman who was pregnant? Had they already done the nursery? The pain Samantha felt knife through her was almost beyond bearing, and as though by reflex action she felt herself reach for the phone. Without thinking, yet desperately wanting to reach out and hear a friendly voice, she dialed a familiar number and only a moment later she heard Charlie Peterson answer the phone. His mellifluous voice boomed into the receiver with a resounding rendition of Jingle Bells. He was halfway into the second verse before Sam could squeeze in her name.

Who? ' O'er the fields we go ' '

Shut up, Charlie! It's me, Sam!

Oh ' hi, Sam.' Dashing all the wayyyy' '

Charlie! She was laughing as she listened, between rounds of trying to outshout him, but despite the amusement of listening to him, there was another pang of loneliness and she felt terribly far away. She suddenly wished she were with them, and not three thousand miles away on a ranch. There was no choice but to wait for him to finish singing.

Merry Christmas!

You mean you're through? You're not going to sing Silent Night'?

I wasn't planning to, but if you're making a special request, Sam, I'm sure I could.'

Charlie, please! I want to talk to Mellie and the boys. But first she almost gulped as she said it tell me how things are at the office. She had forced herself not to call. Harvey had practically ordered her not to and she had obeyed. They had her number if they needed her, and her boss had thought it would do her good to forget about them as completely as she could. And actually she had done better than she had expected to. Until now. How are my accounts doing? Have you lost them all yet?

Every one of them. Charlie beamed into the phone with pride and lit a cigar, and then suddenly he frowned and looked at his watch. What in hell are you doing up at this hour? It must be ' what? Not even six o'clock in the morning out there! Where are you? He suddenly wondered if she had abandoned the ranch and returned.

I'm still here. I just couldn't sleep. I've been getting up at four thirty every morning, now I don't know what to do with myself. This feels like the middle of the afternoon. Not quite, but she was certainly wide awake. How are the kids?

Wonderful. There was a moment's hesitation in his voice, and he hurried on to ask her how she was. They riding you ragged out there, I hope?

Absolutely. Come on, Charlie, tell me what's happening back there. Suddenly she wanted to know everything, from the office gossip to who was threatening to steal which account from another house.

Nothing much, kiddo. New York hasn't changed much in the last two weeks. What about you? He sounded serious for a moment and Sam smiled. You happy out there, Sam? You all right?

I'm fine. And then with a small sigh, It was the right thing to do, much as I hate to admit it. I guess I needed something as radical as this. I haven't watched the six o'clock news all week.

That's something at least. If you're up at four thirty, you're probably asleep by six o'clock at night.

Not quite, but close.

And your friend ' Caroline, and ail the horses? They're okay? He sounded so much like a New Yorker that it made her laugh as she pictured him puffing on his cigar and staring into space wearing his pajamas and his bathrobe and maybe something the children had given him for Christmas, like a baseball cap or a mitt or a pair of red-and-yellow-striped socks.

Everyone here is fine. Let me talk to Mellie. She did, and Melinda didn't catch Charlie's signal. She almost instantly told Sam the news. She was pregnant. The baby was due in July, and she had just found out that week. For just a fraction of a second there was a strange silence and then suddenly Sam was full of effusive congratulations as in the distance Charlie closed his eyes and groaned.