The Ranch Hand (12 page)

She held her chin up as he drove away. She didn’t let herself cry, though the tears burned behind her eyes, aching to push themselves out and stream down her cheeks. She wouldn’t admit how much he’d hurt her. The worst of it was, she’d known this all along. What a fool she was, thinking any man would give up something he wanted, just to have her. But she didn’t need him. He might make her feel like a goddess in the bedroom, but she didn’t want to hold him back. He’d come to hate her if she got in the way of what he wanted. His dream. And he certainly wasn’t willing to come along for the ride on her dream.

The walk up the path to her damaged trailer was one of the longest of her life.

Chapter Eight

He was a damn fool.

Worse yet, he knew he was a damn fool. What had possessed him to believe it’d be a grand idea to surprise her with the repair work done after she’d been so adamant about pulling her own cart, handling her own problems? Now everything was a mess simply because he’d had the bright idea to surprise her with the hope of making her happy.

He traced an erratic design with his thumb through the condensation forming on the beer bottle in his hand. The campfire crackled and spat at his feet. Heat washed against him. His boot heels were hot where he had them up on one of the rocks forming the circle of stones around the flames. The night was quiet and the sparks danced over the logs. He stared at the coals and replayed their argument in his head. Over and over.

It had been a long, ugly damn day and he was glad to see the sun setting. Much of the snow had melted by late in the afternoon, turning the ground to slushy mud. He’d returned from Carol’s trailer and had immediately set himself to work, moving the herd out to open pasture as he hoped to clear his head a little. Pike was surefooted, but she’d had mud up to the knee by the time he rounded up the cattle and got them home. The cattle were even worse, some of them looking as if they’d been caught in a mudslide. It had taken far longer than usual to get them penned, then get Pike cleaned and the tack settled. Didn’t help that his heart hadn’t been in the work.

He’d eaten alone tonight as well, making his excuses to Mrs. McCreedy. Apparently Carol had her own plans as well, because her truck was still missing. He knew. He’d been watching for it all night while cursing himself for a fool.

But what could he do? She was a woman out of his league. The only thing he had to give her—hard work—had been spurned. He’d only wanted to give her something. Do something for a woman he cared for. He took a swig of beer, found it empty, and set the bottle beside him on a rock. Just one tonight. A comfort beer. But he was working again tomorrow, and he reckoned he was already wallowing enough in self pity after one bottle.

She’d accused him of being selfish. As if having a bit of pride was selfish. She had pride, didn’t she? She’d come down on him like a bale of hale falling on an ant hill when he’d interfered where he hadn’t been wanted. As if he didn’t believe she could handle herself. Why did she have so much to prove?

Why did
he
have so much to prove?

Still, what kind of man would he be if he simply took a free ride on her success? He should be able to make her life better somehow. He frowned, staring at the flames. If things between them continued down the road they’d been traveling—before things had veered over the cliff—he could easily see them married. A bunch of young ones running around. Sons and daughters to teach how to ride, how to mend a fence, how to care for a horse, the best way to goad a stubborn cow. Maybe other people would’ve found it strange for a man like him to think that way, settling down, raising a family, but they were only buying into some Marlboro man stereotype. For him it had always been simple. You loved someone, you built a life with them.

But the key word had been
built
. He wanted a role in building it… He snorted and shook his head, because now he was even contradicting himself. A moment ago he’d wanted it already built, his dream realized, and only then he’d feel worthy of Carol’s love. Now he was saying he’d only need a role in building it—the path instead of the end.

So in the end, what did he really want?

He kicked dirt on the fire until it was dead and stood there in the dark, unable to settle on an answer, but every part of him aching for Carol.

That was what he wanted. Carol.

He loved her, and he realized he’d loved her for a long time now.

Chapter Nine

Carol made good time on the long ride back from Boulder, keeping her truck at the speed limit and safely in the slow lane. She was all done with traffic accidents for, hopefully, the foreseeable future. The Rocky Mountains made a stunning line off to the west, but today, instead of inspiring her with their beauty, they merely made her feel insignificant. The radio was off because she needed the silence to think. All her thoughts crashed around in her head, but she was determined to sort them into some kind of order before she returned home.

She couldn’t stay away from Snowbrook forever. Neither could she avoid Harlan forever.

Oh, for the past couple of days she’d stayed with a friend in Boulder while she sorted a few things out, but that had been cowardly. Problems didn’t disappear simply when ignored. Truth in point, the tree that had smashed her trailer. She’d contracted a crew to finish cutting it up and hauling it off, and her head contractor already had people on repairs to the roof and frame. She’d been out to her land twice yesterday. They had the framework cleared and the whole thing protected by tarps from the weather—though another freak snowstorm would put an end to that right quick. Still, she remained hopeful.

Hopeful. And utterly, thoroughly heartbroken.

So here she was, on the road back to Snowbrook to see her aunt…because her aunt was lonely with her uncle off on his extended business trip. No, that wasn’t quite the truth, and she might as well admit it. Carol wanted a shoulder to cry on. Her friend was great, but there was no shoulder in the world for giving comfort that compared to her aunt’s. Then again, she couldn’t say anything to her aunt that might threaten Harlan’s job. They were both adults. They’d both had fun…

A smile curled her lips as she remembered how much fun they’d had. That passionate tumble in his trailer. The naughtiness of the ropes in the stables… Heat pooled deep inside her, coupled with an ache that seemed to go straight to her core.

No, now wasn’t the time for distraction. Their time together had been great, and she cared deeply for him…but all the same they wanted different things. Sometimes life’s road ran parallel. Sometimes it veered off in opposite directions. Sad, but still true.

All the same, with some time and some distance it had been easy to see that she’d overreacted to him heading over to her place and helping her out, despite her request that he leave it to her to handle. He’d been sincere when he’d told her he’d only wanted to help. She’d been too angry and too hurt to care at the time. So the man had wanted to help. Millions of women would think she deserved a smack for biting a helping hand or not appreciating when a fella went out of his way to do something nice for a girl. She could see that. She was worthy of her share of blame in this fight. Thing was, they could get past the stupid fight easy enough. The real problem was whether Harlan believed he could still be in a relationship with her if the land and the ranch were hers and not his. He’d made it clear he wouldn’t. She wasn’t ready to abandon everything she’d already built because he had some male pride thing that wouldn’t let him realize that dammit, he had plenty to be proud of, and dammit, she didn’t need a rich man. She needed a man who would love her.

There. She said it. Breaking things off with Harlan was the right decision. The trails they rode were branching in opposite directions. She’d done the wise, responsible thing.

So why did it hurt so bad?

The road unfurled in front of her in a long dark ribbon. It was late afternoon and the sun was sinking toward the mountains. She glanced at the time on the radio. She’d be rolling into Snowbrook right about twilight. There was a healthy chance she wouldn’t even see Harlan tonight. Her aunt usually made supper early. She was crossing her fingers that would be the case, and she even eased up on the pedal a little to stretch the time. She didn’t want to see him. It was too soon. How could their words be anything but clumsy, bleeding things full of the hurts they’d done each other?

If not for that damn freak snowstorm, everything would’ve been different.

* * *

Harlan had once overheard a fella in a bar claim that a man only needed a horse to be happy.

Harlan now allowed as to how that fella’s advice had been the quality of manure dispensed from the rear quarters of a bull.

As the days had passed and Carol had stayed away, his ache for her increased until he found himself working almost constantly in a desperate attempt to put her from his mind. Didn’t work though. Every time he closed his eyes he could see her beautiful smiling face. Every time his thoughts wandered they returned to visions of Carol, to memories of Carol, of her riding alongside him, of her naked and eager beneath his hands, panting with need, of both of them lost in pleasure.

This was killing him.

His dreams all felt empty now, after being with her. What good were they if she wouldn’t share them? All the things that had once brought him pleasure only seemed empty, worth next to nothing, without her beside him to enjoy and experience them together.

He had to make this right.

For the hundredth time he paced the length of the trailer. He was far too restless for such a confined space. He was as keyed up as a cat in a roomful of vacuum cleaners, pacing around, staring at the things inside and not really seeing them. The heater wasn’t on but the place felt too hot, the walls too close, with no place to breathe. Grabbing his coat and hat, he pushed out into the cold air and sucked in a deep breath. The tightness in his chest lessened a little. Stir crazy. That’s what they called it. He’d been locked up inside his trailer for too long, trapped inside his head. He needed to find Carol.

The sun was setting behind the mountains, leaving the landscape washed in reds and oranges. A quick scan told him her truck was nowhere in sight at Snowbrook. That left her place. He needed to saddle up and ride over. He’d go with his hat in hand if necessary, but he wasn’t going to let the woman he loved ride off into the sunset without damn-well giving his all to keep her. If he told her how he felt about her and she still wanted to go her own way, fine enough. He’d retire to his trailer to bleed, same as anyone. But he wasn’t going to let her go without making it clear that he would do anything for her. Sacrifice anything for her.

The wind slapped at him as he crossed to the stables. He held the edge of his hat to keep it from blowing off and picked up his pace. Pike whinnied in greeting at the sound of his boots on the wood floorboards as he entered. Within ten minutes he had Pike all saddled up and he was riding out. The mountains had shifted to purples and grays as the sun disappeared, the colors turning them bleak and forbidding. He stroked his hand along Pike’s neck as the horse snorted and stamped, clearly unsettled at this break in routine. He clicked his tongue and Pike started forward. He’d take the fastest route to her ranch, and that meant riding the main dirt roads and forsaking the trails.

He passed a straggling copse of pine trees growing along the side of the road. Riding made it easy to lose himself in the rhythm of the hoof beats and the maze of his own thoughts. With every passing moment the feeling that he’d done something horribly, idiotically wrong by leaving her grew deeper. The way he missed her…that should’ve told him something right there. The way his thoughts always circled back to her, no matter what, should’ve been another clue. He could be bailing wire and he’d find himself thinking about something funny she’d said. He could be mucking out stalls and he’d remember the way she’d laughed—not that there was any correlation to stall-mucking and her laughter. And it’d probably be wise to keep secret the fact that he’d thought about her at all while doing that particular job. He doubted it’d be appreciated.

What if she never came back to Snowbrook?

It was a foolish thought. Even if they turned into enemies, Carol would never stay away from her aunt and uncle. All the same, the possibility filled him with icy fear. He urged Pike up to a canter. His heart thundered in his chest and it was impossible to think of anything except Carol and somehow stopping her from leaving him. If he didn’t set this right, he knew it was over forever. Over time they’d both harden their positions, build walls, dig in like mules. He’d be desperately reassuring himself how she hadn’t really been the woman for him. That she hadn’t truly loved him, and how he hadn’t truly loved her. Frantically trying to convince himself of something he knew deep down to be a lie.

He dug his heels in, urging Pike to greater speeds. His horse responded like the champion she was. They rode hard, full gallop, tearing up the dirt fields toward the cattle grate and the fence where he knew was the last place he could stop her.

A man like him might not deserve a woman like Carol, but damn it all, he was going to take her anyway.

* * *

Carol almost turned around and drove back to Boulder. Twice her foot had tapped the brakes and she’d looked for a driveway to turn around and head back they way she’d come. She’d gone on, but inside she felt as if there were a wild storm looming on the horizon, moving closer and closer. When she rounded the bend and spotted the man on a horse, both of them stopped full in the middle of the road, she knew there was no chance of turning back. The storm had hit.

It was Harlan and Pike, of course. They blocked the gate near the cattle guard and watched her roll down the dirt road. Her truck slowed to a halt almost as if she weren’t the one controlling it. She was so focused on him she felt detached from everything else, on autopilot, or as if this were a dream she were having. Harlan watched her from underneath the brim of his hat. In the last fading rays of the sunset, his expression was intense, as though he were a cougar stalking prey.