by Arlene James
The big man snarled, more for the benefit of the crowd than to frighten his opponent, but it seemed that he was not so eager to fight with Garrett as he had been to thrash Rick. He made a feigning lunge at Rick, and roared with laughter when the smaller man cringed in fright. Gloria threw her arms around him as if that could protect him from Dermont's huge fists or somehow lessen his humiliation. For once, Crystal perfectly understood the girl.
Slowly the tension began to drain out of the atmosphere, and Crystal detected a few chuckles here and there. Dermont turned, casting one last menacing look at Rick, and ambled toward the door, jerking the blonde along with him. When he had disappeared through it, Garrett turned to Rick, scowled, and nodded at Gloria, who smiled her thanks and urged Rick toward the tables ringing the floor.
Cleave loosened his hold on Crystal, and it was all she could do to keep from rushing toward Garrett with outstretched arms. It had all happened in the space of a couple of minutes, but Crystal felt drained and exhausted. By the time Garrett reached her, the lights were dimmed and the middle-aged announcer had the microphone back in hand, calming the crowd and preparing to resume the dancing.
"Gloria is going to take Rick home," Garrett informed the crowd of spectators. "I'm sorry for that ugly scene, but you folks go ahead and enjoy your evening."
Cleave produced Garrett's hat, and Garrett took it with a wan smile. "Thanks for looking after her," he said softly, and rested one big warm hand on Crystal's shoulder. "I'm going to take her home now."
She nodded silently and gazed up into those tired blue eyes. Dear heaven, how she loved him!
Lupe and Petie stated that they had had enough for one evening and would also be going home. "I expect that idiot is going to need some doctoring," Lupe clucked irritably, and Petie concurred.
Garrett's strong arm went around Crystal as he ushered her through the crowd and toward the door. The night was black and still, as if nothing that could ever happen inside those whitewashed walls would have the slightest effect on the world outside.
Garrett's sports car was parked very near the door, and he helped Crystal in before going around, handing her his hat, and folding himself into the seat behind the steering wheel.
He closed the door and sighed. His blond head fell back on the headrest, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Crystal sat very still, drinking in the handsome face upturned in the near-darkness.
He lifted his head and fixed his eyes on her. "I wasn't going to even come tonight," he said softly, "until I saw you standing in the courtyard in that dress." His hand reached out and caressed her face gently. "You're so beautiful!"
There was a sudden leap of joy in Crystal's chest, and she could not have moved away from him if her very life depended upon it. Nothing had been resolved, nothing important anyway—and yet, everything changed.
"Do you know," she began, surprised at the calmness of her voice, "that I thought Gloria was in love with you?"
His laughter rang out, enveloping her in a happy cocoon of tenderness. "Gloria thinks of me as a big brother," he stated lightly. "She always did, even before I married her sister."
Crystal's mouth fell open, so stunned was she by this news.
"You didn't know?" he asked. "Lupe didn't say anything?"
"Nothing. I mean, she said things, but nothing about…"
"About my wife being her daughter?" he finished for her.
Crystal was dumbfounded. Why hadn't someone told her? Why hadn't she figured it out? Then something fresh and new, like hope, washed over her. "She was Mexican," she murmured to herself.
"Of course she was," he laughed, fishing the keys from his coat pocket. "Why? What difference does it make?"
"And petite," Crystal went on absently, musing over it all hopefully. "With long dark hair and big wide eyes."
"Yeah," he confirmed, fitting the proper key into the ignition. "A lot like Gloria, really, now that she's grown up some."
Crystal's heart fairly leaped for joy, but that stubborn little voice of caution stuck with her even now. She didn't look like Gloria, not really. Still…
"Garrett," she implored quickly, "did Alicia Murrow ever meet your late wife?"
He turned to her, his face mirroring his puzzlement. "No, I don't think so," he answered thoughtfully. "No, I'm sure of it. It was just after Maria's death that I first met Gene Murrow, Alicia's father. We made a couple of business deals together. That's how that woman finagled her way into my life. What a pain that woman is! She set her cap for me right away. Would you believe she even called up a couple of the women I dated and threatened them if they didn't stay away from me?"
"Oh, I believe it," Crystal said meaningfully. "Oh, boy, do I believe it!"
Garrett's hand fell away from the key in the switch and ruffled his gold hair. "Crystal, what's all this about?"
"Never mind," she said softly, smiling happily. "It doesn't matter, not in the least!" He cast her a rueful look, shook his head wonderingly, and turned the key. The engine roared to life, and the flashy compact automobile backed out. They were on their way home —together.
It was a quiet but happy and comfortable journey back to the ranch. Crystal could not believe how the evening had ended. What a fool she had been! How could she have believed Alicia Murrow so unquestioningly? Anyone in her right mind would have just laughed off anything that woman had to say. She was obviously a very sick, pathetic individual who would have said anything to scare off competition.
And Gloria. No wonder the girl was so hostile and resentful of Crystal. Someone had probably mentioned how Rick had flirted with her at that very first meeting in Lupe's kitchen. That was very probably what had started the whole misunderstanding. And hadn't she furnished fuel for the fire by going out riding with Rick? Gloria had seen that innocent little kiss and in her jealousy had blown it all out of proportion. Then, to add fuel to the fire, Crystal had accepted his invitation to the dance! How miserable the girl must have been! She had wanted Crystal paired up with Garrett all along—that was why she had come to Crystal's room earlier. She had wanted Crystal to go to the dance with Garrett instead of Rick! How preposterous the whole misunderstanding had been! Crystal could even feel sorry for Gloria. The girl would need pity, considering the man she was in love with.
Most important was the revelation that Garrett had been married to Gloria's sister. Why she and Crystal could have had only the most superficial resemblance— if any. Maria Dean was no longer a specter from the past. She was just a woman out of Garrett's past. For the first time Crystal wondered how the woman had died. For the first time she experienced compassion and sympathy over the woman's death. And for the first time she had hope that she might yet win the man she loved.
Oh, nothing had been resolved between them. She was still terribly frightened of being hurt again. And Garrett had never mentioned the word "love" to her. The closest he had come was desire, and that simply was not good enough. But at least she knew now what she wanted and had the courage to go after it. Now she knew that if he should ever love her, it would be for herself and not for any uncanny resemblance to another woman he had loved.
They had reached the house. Garrett pulled the car into the garage and got out, coming around the front end to assist Crystal from the car. His strong arm went again around her shoulders, and they walked together through the outer courtyard by the swimming pool and into the hallway outside of her bedroom.
At her door they paused, both fumbling awkwardly for something intelligent to say, like kids on their first date.
"I'm glad you came tonight," Crystal rushed suddenly and honestly.
"So am I." His voice was soft and velvety, but there maintained an awkward distance between them, and Crystal was at a loss how to close it.
"Well," she fumbled at last, "I guess I should go in. It's been quite an evening."
He nodded silently, curiously holding back, and Crystal turned away disappointed and confused. Everything had changed. Before, he would have kissed her whet
her she wanted to be kissed or not, and now that she wanted to be kissed, he was holding back. Maybe he sensed this change in her attitude and it troubled him. Maybe Garrett Dean was the sort of man who wanted nothing more than a physical relationship, and she had made herself perfectly plain on that issue already.
Reluctantly Crystal opened the door to her room and started through it. Garrett's arm went up and he momentarily blocked her way. She turned expectantly, and again he backed off.
"Um, listen, why don't you and I go for a ride tomorrow," he suggested awkwardly. "I mean, there are some things we need to straighten out—in private— and, well, you like to ride, don't you?"
"That would be nice. Thank you."
"Okay." He stuck his hands awkwardly into his pockets.
"Uh, what time do you want to go?" she asked uncertainly.
"Oh, about lunch, I guess. Would that be all right?"
"Sure."
"Maybe Lupe will pack a lunch for us," he suggested quietly. "Would you like that? We could ride over to Enchanted Rock."
"I'd love it!" Crystal gushed, and colored slightly as it occurred to her that she might sound too enthusiastic.
"Okay," he said again, and blew out a stream of hot air. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Crystal watched as he strode slowly down the hall, paused momentarily at his own door, smiled and waved, then went inside.
Her heart was thrumping excitedly as she undressed, washed her face, and crawled into the big rosewood bed. That bed felt suddenly so empty and cold that she shivered. Lying there in the darkness, she wondered what tomorrow would hold.
Chapter Ten
Tomorrow didn't come soon enough. Crystal spent an emotional night of intense anticipation, and when the sunlight did finally stream in layers through the louvers of the green shutters, it was only the herald of a very long morning. She elected to spend it straightening her room and doing little odd chores, handwashing and mending and such things, until finally she judged that it was time for her to dress.
She dressed herself in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt of lightweight cotton in a neat blue-and-white check with white piping. She put on her boots, added a streak of soft blue shadow to her eyelids, some mascara, and a touch of lip gloss, then brushed out her long coffee-brown hair to make it shine in a cascade down her back.
There was still plenty of time before Garrett would call for her, and Crystal tried to pass it by reading. She was having trouble concentrating when she heard the heavy fall of his knuckles on her door. Dumping the book heedlessly to the floor, she jumped and literally ran to fling back the door to see him standing there.
He was dressed in jeans and a clean white shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, straw hat in hand, even white teeth flashing a smile at her. "I see you're ready," he said. There was still that awkward distance between them that she had felt the night before when they had said good-bye at her door. It sent little spasms of doubt edging up her spine.
"Almost," she answered brightly, trying to shake that uncomfortable feeling of impending disappointment. "Just let me pull my hair back and get my hat."
He nodded politely, and though she left the door open, he did not venture into the room. Instead, he stood just outside, rocking on his heels, toying with the brim of his hat.
Crystal's hopes for the day plummeted, but she maintained a calm expression as she hurriedly swept her hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck, fastening it with a rubber band. Quickly she went to the closet and fetched her hat down from its place on the upper shelf. With a last deep breath she turned and walked tremulously toward him.
Their walk to the stables was filled with trite, meaningless conversation. He had saddled the horses and carried the picnic fixings down to the stables before coming to her room. She sensed a certain reluctance in him that tied her stomach in knots and grated upon her nerves. She had never seen him like this, unstrung and skittery, a bundle of tension and strain. Even their arguments were more palatable than this.
The big, gentle mare stood tethered to the corral fence alongside Garrett's mount, a curiously beautiful animal with a coat of many different shades of browns and tans and whites and black. Some came in big splotches and others in tiny speckles. He was a paint, Garrett informed her, appropriately named Harlequin. Lashed to the pommel of Harlequin's saddle was a small covered picnic basket.
Garrett helped her astride the mare, who snorted unconcernedly and shifted her weight lazily from side to side. Then he swung up expertly onto the paint's strong back, and they started off, Garrett leading the way and she following uneasily behind.
It was a hot day, and it took them a long time to cross the empty pastureland and sight the huge dome of gray granite that loomed five hundred feet almost straight up from its base. Almost devoid of vegetation, the high peak dwarfed the surrounding rock formations. She was amazed to think that it had not been visible from the road that lay on the side opposite from their approach.
They reined in their horses for a moment. Garrett removed his hat and mopped his damp brow with a forearm, while Crystal's attention was captured by that naked dome and she remembered the legends he had told her about human sacrifice and furious battles connected with this massive rock.
"Does it really make strange noises at night?" she questioned abruptly, shading her eyes against the bright afternoon glare.
"It really does. Weird groaning and cracking sounds. And then there are the strange lights, too. Some people say they are campfires, ghost fires." He chuckled tersely. "But I don't really go in for that fairy-tale stuff. I suppose there is a perfectly logical explanation."
Crystal probed his face.
"I suppose there is a logical explanation for just about everything," she murmured, only she was wondering what the "perfectly logical explanation" was for his sudden reticence. Garrett urged his horse forward, on toward the Enchanted Rock.
She was tired, dusty, and hungry long before they skirted the outlying peak of the rock formation and dismounted beside a clear, gently flowing creek running along the base of the mountain. Garrett tethered their horses to a nearby tree, unsaddled them, and stowed the tack gear on a rock jutting up out of the ground. While he did that, Crystal washed her hands and face in the cool, refreshing stream and proceeded to lay out their lunch.
Lupe had included a thin tablecloth in the lunch basket, and Crystal spread it out on the sandy ground beneath the shade trees lining the little creek. There were chunky ham sandwiches and crisp potato chips, a pair of thick wedges of coconut cake, and two shiny red apples, along with two plastic cups filled with crisp vegetable salad. There was a canteen of iced tea and two paper cups, napkins, salt and pepper, flatware, paper plates. It was a veritable feast to a starving Crystal, and she marveled at Lupe's efficiency. She would have been hard put to get all that into one little basket herself.
Garrett came to join her, dropping down beside her and stretching out on the white tablecloth that served as their blanket. He was quiet and pensive, but ate heartily of Lupe's lunch. Crystal sat tensely by his side, her booted feet pulled up beneath her, and munched hungrily on her sandwich.
His meal finished, Garrett folded his long arms beneath his cool blond head and closed his eyes. After a while he appeared to be snoozing, and Crystal began quietly to clean up after their picnic. That done, she paused for a moment, on her knees beside him, and took a long look at that handsome face.
Slowly Garrett opened his eyes, and Crystal felt a sharp intake of her breath. She felt suspended in the blueness of his gaze. Solemnly, gradually, his hand rose, touched her face lightly, and moved with swift sureness to the back of her head, pulling her to him roughly, breaking the rubber band that held her hair in a thick column at the back of her neck.
Even as her hair tumbled gently about her shoulders and her face descended toward his, she saw his lips slowly parting before meeting her own. His arms, strong and corded with muscles beneath the smooth, sun-burnished skin, came round her and hugg
ed her to his wide, hard chest as he rolled to his side, and she stretched out on the unyielding ground beside him.
Gently at first, then urgently, his hands began their expert explorations of her body, brushing apart the snap that closed the front of her blouse and burning their imprint upon the mounds of her breasts. She moaned softly into the dark, sweet cavern of his mouth, and his hand slid demandingly down her hips to press her against him.
She came to him willingly, ardently, almost desperately, feeling his masculine hardness against her, locking her fingers in that golden hair, loosening them again to respond to his wandering touch with touch of her own, following his lead where it would take her.
There was no pulling back now, no indecision, no confusion about wanting him to love her. She had to let him know that she was his, that she loved him, that there was no more war between them. He had not yet said those words that would have made it all right, but neither had she, and if he would not be the first, then she would.
She had to say it, had to hear it from him. She loved him, and beyond that there was no decision to be made. She was his. And though she said it now with the power of the response of her body, she needed to say the words. They were already there, formed on her lips, when she pulled her mouth reluctantly away from his.
And suddenly it was all over.
He bolted upright, breathing raggedly, tearing himself from her as urgently as he had sought her. In that one instant of stupefying rejection, her world came crashing down around her. The dream was shattered.
"I've got to put some distance between us, Crystal," he said brusquely, his face buried in the hollow of his arms folded atop his drawn-up knees. "This isn't really what either of us wants."
She needed no further explanation. He knew her well, too well. He knew that she would not be happy with mere physical gratification, and obviously he was telling her that he had no interest in anything more.
Blindly Crystal scrambled to her feet, clutching her blouse together with a quivering hand, a mass of conflicting emotions. Without saying a word, she hurried away, brushing at the tears beginning to fall from her clouded eyes.