Rex hugged the little boy and rested his chin on Danny’s mass of gingery curls. Lindsay smiled privately, watching from the corner of her eye as the lawyer searched his mind for a story that might be suitable for an eight-year-old boy.
“This story’s about me when I was your age,” he said at last, “and I had dog called Scout.”
“Oh, boy,” Danny breathed. “I love stories about kids and dogs.”
Lindsay kept stacking dishes, listening intently. Despite their long friendship, she’d never learned much about Rex’s boyhood days. She was always curious to learn what his life had been like before he came to Lost Springs Ranch as a wild, sullen twelve-year-old.
But he set Danny gently on the floor and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Later I’ll tell you the story,” he promised. “When we’re on the trail and have all kinds of time to fill in.”
“Not now?” Danny asked, clearly disappointed.
“Right now Lindsay says we all have to keep busy, and she’s the boss.”
“Are you the boss?” Danny asked her gravely, watching as she spooned detergent into a little compartment in the door of the dishwasher.
“I certainly am.” She hugged him briefly. “And don’t you forget it, young man. Either of you.”
Rex chuckled and got up to begin putting his salad makings away in the fridge. He lifted Danny and sat him on the counter, where the little boy sat swinging his stockinged feet.
“I like it here,” Danny said wistfully. “You guys are so nice. When my mom and dad were... Before they...”
Suddenly his face reddened and contorted. Tears began to stream down his cheeks as he gulped and sobbed. Lindsay moved toward him, but Rex was too quick.
He gathered Danny in his arms and carried him out through the house toward the veranda. “We’ll just rock and talk for a while,” he called over his shoulder. “Come out when you’re ready, Lin. Okay?”
“All right.” As Lindsay worked, she listened to the low murmur beyond the screened front door. She could hear Rex’s deeper rumble, punctuated by Danny’s tear-choked words. Gradually their voices stilled and a feeling of midday contentment stole over the log house.
She wrung out the dishcloth and hung it next to the towel, then steeled herself to go outside.
It was getting harder all the time to deal with this new Rex, both his teasing and his surprising tenderness. The sight of him holding and comforting Danny had practically wiped out the last of her defenses.
Ruefully, she examined her flushed, bright-eyed reflection in the hall mirror.
If Rex Trowbridge kept behaving this way, he wouldn’t even have to invade her tent under cover of darkness. She’d be more likely to leave the flap wide open as an invitation.
The thought was alarming to her on several levels. First of all, she couldn’t behave so wantonly with a man who was one of her oldest friends. Besides, the life Rex had built for himself was not at all the kind that appealed to her.
Mostly, though, Lindsay couldn’t bear the thought of being touched intimately or held by any man.
Not after...
She turned abruptly, grabbed her sweater from the bench in the hall and went out onto the veranda where Rex sat in the rocking chair that had once belonged to her father, Danny cuddled in his lap. So many boys had been rocked and comforted in that same chair in years past.
The child’s storm of tears had subsided, and the summer afternoon was still and peaceful.
“All set?” Rex asked, looking up at her.
Lindsay nodded and cast a questioning glance toward Danny’s red curls.
“This cowboy’s just fine,” Rex said. “Aren’t you, son?”
“I’m fine,” Danny replied. He wriggled to look up at Lindsay. The blue eyes were still red-rimmed, but his tears had been carefully wiped away, and he looked almost like his old cheerful self.
“Well then, let’s go see the horses,” Lindsay suggested. “You lead the way, Danny.”
Rex set the boy on his feet, and they both watched as he scampered down the steps and across the yard toward the barn. Lindsay and Rex followed more slowly, strolling along in the sunshine.
“Thank you for taking care of him,” she said. “I had no idea you could be like that.”
“Like what?”
“So...tender,” Lindsay said awkwardly.
He took her arm and drew her closer. “I keep telling you, Linnie, there are such a lot of things you need to learn about me.”
This time she pulled away hastily, alarmed by the storm of feeling he aroused in her. “I don’t want to learn anything, thanks,” she said a little stiffly. “I think after all these years, I know as much about you as I’m ever going to need.”
She was spared his reply when Sam wandered toward them with the bereft look he’d been wearing since yesterday. Her uncle carried a bit of wood and was whittling on it aimlessly as he headed toward his own little house near the creek.
Lindsay reached out to stop him. “Why don’t you come to the barn with us, Sam?” she said. “Clint wants us to check out the horses for our trail ride, but it’s been years since I had very much to do with that part of the business. I really don’t have a clue which horses would be best for us to take.”
Sam kicked the toe of his boot idly in the dirt. “I reckon young Clint’s on top of things,” he said. “The boy spends all his time down there, and he takes real good care of the horses.”
“But...” Lindsay exchanged a glance with Rex, feeling helpless and worried. “But does he really know the horses well enough to pick safe mounts for all these boys?”
Sam shrugged, a wholly uncharacteristic gesture. “One horse is pretty much like another, I guess. None of them are going to buck, and they all know how to find their way back home, so I don’t suppose it matters which ones you take.”
Rex tightened his grip on Lindsay’s arm, giving it a squeeze of warning. “Okay, Sam,” he said. “Lindsay and I will go down and work things out with Clint. You have a nice lunch.”
“Is it lunchtime?” Sam looked vaguely at his watch, then tried to smile. “When a feller gets this old, he starts to lose track of time.”
He shambled off toward his cottage again while Lindsay watched in concern. For the first time, her uncle really did look old, and his aimless, lonely air tore at her heart.
“I wish I knew what the problem was,” she said in an undertone to Rex.
“It must be something that just happened recently. He’s been this way since yesterday.”
“But, Rex...you probably won’t get a chance to talk to him before we leave.”
He patted her shoulder. “We’ll only be gone a week. We’re not going to the ends of the earth, Lin, just west into the mountains.”
“I guess you’re right.” She smiled wanly. “But with all the supplies on this list, it sure feels like we’re going to the ends of the earth.”
They both paused at the entrance to the barn. Danny had vanished inside to find Clint, and the two of them followed.
* * *
CLINT GLANCED UP, suddenly tense when he saw the man and woman silhouetted in the square of sunlight at the door of the barn. He was sitting on a bale of hay as he repaired a torn saddle blanket, mending the leather edging with a heavy curved needle and the neat stitching that Sam had taught him.
Danny arrived and stood at his side, watching with interest. Clint grunted at the boy, then pretended not to notice as Rex and Lindsay drew nearer.
“Hi, Clint,” the lawyer said. “Sam wanted us to check in with you on your list of horses for the trail ride.”
Clint kept stitching, deliberately finishing the edging of the blanket. “Okay,” he said, after a lengthy pause that stopped just short of outright rudeness. “I’ll be right with you.”
He glanced up c
overtly, watching as the three of them wandered outside into the corral. Then he knotted and snipped the coarse thread.
It gave him a lot of satisfaction to keep the big-shot lawyer waiting.
Clint had cooled his heels in a lot of lawyers’ waiting rooms over the past year. And whenever he finally got into their offices, they’d pushed him around and pretended a concern they obviously didn’t feel. He enjoyed the chance to give one of them the same treatment for a change.
But Lindsay looked tired and frazzled, and Clint couldn’t help feeling a bit of sympathy for her. She was working really hard on this dumb trip, wearing herself out. Clint wanted to tell her not to bother, that the little kids and the lawyer weren’t worth so much effort.
Part of him also wanted to warn her that if they went ahead with the trip, something bad was almost certain to happen.
He set his jaw and got up, tossing the sewing supplies into a big wooden box near the tack room.
The welfare of this group wasn’t his responsibility. If they insisted on hauling him off on some kiddie expedition, they deserved whatever they got. Their problems were going to be funny to watch, Clint told himself firmly. In fact, he was going to get a real kick out of the whole thing.
He ambled out into the corral, carrying a prepared list of horses. On Clint’s roster, an individual horse’s name was matched to each of the eight people going on the trail ride, while six others were designated as pack animals.
Lindsay glanced over the list, then looked up at him. “Can you show us which horses these are, Clint?”
“Sure.” He moved over to the corral fence and gestured across the pasture. “The Bernstein kids are riding those two pinto mares over there.” He pretend to consult his list, although he knew all the horse assignments by heart. “Larkin gets Prince,” he said, “and Lonnie will ride Duchess.”
“Is Duchess still around?” Rex asked. “I remember riding her when I lived here.”
“She’s such a sweetheart.” Lindsay smiled at the old roan mare. “Most of the boys still learn to ride on Duchess.”
Clint checked the list again, feeling a cruel lift of amusement. It appeared this was going to be even easier than he’d expected.
“I’m giving you two those sorrel geldings,” he said, pointing, “and I’ll take the bay. Danny here...” He patted the little boy’s head. “He’s going to ride that little buckskin mare.”
“Her name is Daisy.” Danny jumped from one foot to another in excitement. “Clint lets me ride her around the corral every day, and Rosemary gives me carrots to feed her. Daisy loves me. Doesn’t she, Clint?”
Clint felt Lindsay’s eyes resting on him with startled approval. Again he felt guilt and a touch of unease, and firmly suppressed the emotions.
“Are these new horses?” Rex was studying the two sorrels Clint had selected for him and Lindsay. “I don’t recognize either of them.”
Clint tensed. “Pretty new,” he said casually. “Sam bought them at a horse sale a while ago. He says he likes both of them a lot. They’ve been trained to be really gentle.”
The lawyer nodded, and Clint felt a cold touch of scorn.
The guy might look tough, but he was as easy to fool as any other adult. None of them paid any attention to what kids were doing. They deserved whatever they got, all of them.
But he kept his face expressionless, going on to point out the horses he’d selected for the pack string. All of them were gentle saddle horses, as well, so they’d have spares in case any of the designated mounts came up lame during the trip.
Finally Lindsay initialed Clint’s list and gave him a warm smile that made him feel clumsy and nervous. He watched as they took a last look at the horses in the corral, then left and headed back to the office. Clint saw the lawyer reach out to put a hand on her arm as they walked. Lindsay pulled away, but there wasn’t much conviction in her resistance. In fact, these days she seemed flustered and emotional whenever Trowbridge was around.
And it was easy to see how much the man wanted her.
Clint’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to the barn.
The lawyer was probably going to get her, too. Rex Trowbridge was the kind of man who always got everything he wanted, including all the pretty women.
Well, just let him wait a few days, Clint thought grimly. Let him get out on that trail and have a few little problems, and see what a big shot he was...
“Can I ride Daisy now?” Danny said, materializing at his side.
“Not now,” Clint told him. “I have to run an errand for Sam. Maybe you can ride her after supper, okay?”
“Then can I come with you while you do the errand?”
Clint looked down with touch of exasperation at the boy’s eager freckled face.
“Oh, all right,” he said. “I’m just going over to Rob Carter’s to pick up some first-aid supplies for the trail ride. Hop in the truck.”
CHAPTER TEN
GWEN MCCABE WAS in her accustomed chair on the veranda. Brian sprawled on a rug at her feet, reading a book with his baseball glove nearby, while a couple of dogs drowsed next to them in the shade.
She was working on a knitted afghan, inserting cable needles and twisting the yarn into a complex pattern as she frowned through her reading glasses at the intricate mass of instructions.
“Knit two back,” Gwen muttered, “and purl two forward. But that’s what I just did. Now, what do you suppose they mean by...”
Surreptitiously she glanced up at the dusty road for a moment, then returned to her work, feeling nervous and embarrassed.
But even though she’d been keeping watch most of the afternoon, Brian was the first to notice the approaching vehicle.
“Somebody’s coming,” her grandson announced a few minutes later. “It’s a truck.”
Gwen peered anxiously down the road again. Both dogs had lifted their heads, as well, and were looking on with drowsy interest. Her heart began to pound when she recognized the blue vehicle from Lost Springs Ranch that Sam Duncan always drove.
He was coming back after all, she thought, feeling a joyous rush of happiness.
Sam had decided she wasn’t a total idiot. He was giving her a second chance. And this time she wasn’t going to squander the opportunity.
No matter how embarrassing it was, Gwen intended to explain to Sam just what was wrong with her, and beg him for his understanding. She liked the man far too much to give him the wrong impression or hurt his feelings another time.
“Brian...” she began, anxious to get the little boy out of the way so she and Sam could talk privately. “My goodness, sweetheart, I think it’s just about time for you to go over to Brody’s. I know you have batting practise today.”
“Not for a while, Gram,” Brian said. “Brody had to go to the dentist today. Hey, look,” he added, brightening. “Danny’s here.”
Gwen’s anticipation turned to cold disappointment when she saw a boy and small red-haired child get out of the truck and approach the veranda.
Earlier that morning Rob had prepared several kits of first-aid equipment for Lindsay Duncan’s trail ride and left them with Gwen when he went off to work at his clinic. She’d been watching the road ever since, hoping Sam would be the one to come over from the ranch and pick up the medical supplies.
But obviously Sam never wanted to see her again. He thought she was rude and unkind, not worth a moment of his time.
Gwen shivered when she recalled that last dreadful, uncomfortable meeting, after he’d been kind enough to bring her the beautiful illustrated book about owls. Sam had been so sweet, asking her out for dinner like a shy teenager. And when she refused without an explanation, he’d looked as wounded and embarrassed as Brian did when somebody hurt his feelings.
Oh, Sam, she thought in agony. I wish I could tell you how sorry
I am....
Gwen realized the newcomers were standing at the foot of the veranda steps, looking up at her expectantly.
“I guess you’ve come for the first-aid supplies?” she asked.
“Sam told me Rob was getting them ready, and I should come and pick them up this afternoon.”
The older boy’s voice was surprisingly deep. He looked to be about sixteen and had a dark, withdrawn air.
“I have them in the kitchen.” Gwen put aside the knitting and got to her feet. “Just sit yourselves down for a minute and I’ll go fetch them.”
“Gram,” Brian said, “can I take Danny to see my rabbits?”
“Of course, dear,” Gwen said with automatic courtesy. “And maybe these two fellows would like some lemonade and cookies?”
“We have to get back to the ranch,” the other boy said. “There’s a lot of work to do, getting ready for the trail ride.”
But the two smaller children had already vanished around the back of the house.
Gwen smiled. “Well, it looks like you might as well sit down for a minute,” she told her visitor. “When little boys start looking at rabbits, it usually takes a while to distract them. What’s your name?”
“Clint Kraft.” He mounted the steps and sat awkwardly in one of the chairs, reaching to pat the spaniel who lay at his feet.
“I’ll bring out those first-aid kits and a bit of a snack. By the way,” she added, “my name’s Gwen McCabe. I’m Rob’s mother-in-law.”
“Hello.” The boy gave her a quick, expressionless glance.
Gwen smiled, but he’d already turned away and was patting the dog again. She couldn’t decide if he was sullen or just shy.
She went into the house and piled some oatmeal cookies on a plate, set out a jug of lemonade and four glasses and carried them onto the veranda, placing the tray on a little wooden side table.
“Help yourself,” she said to her silent visitor. “I’ll get the first-aid kits.”
He still said nothing, but when she peeked back from inside the house, Gwen saw him munch one of the cookies with obvious appreciation, and immediately reach for another.
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