by Laurie Paige
Sam, glanced at the tracks again, then clicked to his mount. Lass clicked, too, drawing a laugh from Molly. She clicked and her horse fell into step behind Sam’s mount.
The day was beautiful, perfect for dancing around the Maypole as folks used to do in olden times. She could recall doing it herself in elementary school.
“Maybe next year we’ll plan a Maypole Dance for the students,” she said, sharing her idea.
“Do I have to build it?”
“Of course.”
“It’ll cost you,” he warned. “Be careful along here. We have to climb a ridge.”
Molly discovered the little gelding was adept at getting between a rock and a hard place. By the time they came out on a rocky ledge overlooking the river, she was holding on to the saddle horn and being careful not to look down.
Once up, she discovered they then had to go down. She gritted her teeth and stared at Sam’s back until they stopped.
Sam dismounted and came to her. “At least you didn’t close your eyes,” he commented.
“I was too scared. I didn’t want to miss something to grab hold of in case Painter went over the bluff.”
Her husband laughed as he swung the saddlebags off his horse. He untied a blanket and spread it over a grassy patch of ground under the Cottonwood trees. He placed Lass on it.
“You going to get down?” he asked, giving her a quizzical look.
“I can’t. My legs are numb.”
He shook his head and held up his arms to her. She fell into them and moaned when she tried to stand on her own. Sam looked concerned.
“I’m okay. It’s just that… after all that riding last night, and then today…” The thought trailed off, and heat climbed her face. She wasn’t as bold in speaking of their lovemaking as she’d thought she could be.
Understanding dawned. He touched her hair. “I should have realized you’d be—”
She placed a hand over his mouth. “Actually I was hoping you’d brought me up here to ravish me where my cries for help wouldn’t be heard.”
He wound the strand of hair around and around his finger, bringing her closer and closer to his mouth. “They didn’t sound like cries for help last night. It sounded to me like cries for more. I seem to remember a don’t stop in there…and please...” His lips were very near hers.
“Well, whatever.” She shrugged nonchalantly.
Suddenly she was caught up against a broad chest, her mouth definitely ravished by his in a long kiss of leashed emotion.
When he let her go, they were both breathing hard.
“We’d better feed Lass before she realizes she hasn’t had lunch yet,” she suggested, shaken by the intensity of the kiss.
He’d kissed her that way last night, too, with a desperate silence that sliced right down to her soul. She wasn’t sure what he felt, but whatever the emotion, it was powerful, driving him to hold and kiss her for hours, to make love until they were sated and exhausted, and still he’d held her…all night…as if he’d never let her go.
They settled on the blanket with their daughter. She laid out their sandwiches while Sam fed Lass. She poured them each a cup of lemonade from a canteen. Sipping hers, she watched her husband—in every sense of the word—as he lifted the spoon.
Her heart contracted painfully. She loved Lass as her own, but she wanted to have a baby with Sam, too. Watching him with the child, thinking of his care of the animals on the ranch, his respect for his two ranch hands, his kindness toward her, she knew this man was special, so very special.
“I love you,” she said softly, compelled by the urging of her heart to say the words.
“How do you know?” he asked, giving her an odd glance as he wiped Lass’s sticky fingers after finishing the jars of baby food. “Was it love or a satisfying of the senses that we shared last night?”
She ignored the hurt his question caused. “Lust?” she mused aloud. “Well, there is that. It’s usually the beginning between a man and a woman, but there has to be more to form a lasting bond. I think we have that.”
He was silent for a long time. “So do I.”
Her gaze flew to his. He gave her an earnest smile. She searched the rich darkness of his eyes and wondered if he was telling her he loved her.
“We were friends before we were lovers,” he continued softly. Lass had crawled into his lap and was snuggling down like a fawn in a bed of leaves. “That we’re friends afterward seems like a miracle to me. I’ve never known a woman like you, one that a man can share things with.”
She knew if she didn’t lighten the mood, she might cry. And she didn’t know why or whether they’d be happy tears or sad ones.
Because he was glad of their friendship? Because he couldn’t call it love? Because they did share something special between them? She didn’t know.
Adopting a teasing grin, she informed him they were going to be friends and lovers for a long time. “You can have other friends,” she told him generously, “but there’d better not be any other lovers besides me. I’m quite firm on that, Sam.”
“You’ll never have to worry.” He leaned over—carefully because of the sleeping baby—and kissed her. “You’re the best lover I’ve ever had.”
That surprised her. It must have shown on her face.
“The very best,” he said with quiet sincerity.
She felt beautiful and desirable and lots of other nice things. “Thank you,” she said with deliberate primness. “We aim to please.”
Sam chuckled and accepted the sandwich she handed him. Together they ate and watched the play of sunlight on the river. The water, golden-hued from the silt it carried, flowed with a swift rush to the Rio Grande.
Sam rearranged Lass, then settled with his head in Molly’s lap. She was aware of him watching her before his eyes drifted closed. Leaning against the cottonwood tree, she watched a hawk soar in the sky. A deer appeared on the other side of the river, drank from it and cautiously slipped away. A squirrel made sleepy noises above her.
The peace of the afternoon settled around her as if it were a comforting blanket. She, too, went to sleep.
A patrol car was parked in the shade next to the house when they returned at five.
Sam frowned, then forced himself to relax when he saw the worried glances Molly cast his way. For her sake, he’d be polite no matter what developed.
Bill Merritt stepped out of the light shade of the mesquites and returned Molly’s friendly wave.
“Hello,” she called. “We’ve been on a picnic up on the river. It was simply marvelous.”
Merritt nodded and looked slightly ashamed.
Sam swung down, one hand holding Lass securely against him. “What brings you out this way?”
He helped Molly dismount, catching her discreet grimace as she swung her leg free of the saddle. A pang of regret as well as amusement coursed through him. He realized he’d have to play the gentleman and let her rest tonight. She wasn’t used to being a wife.
“Problems,” the deputy answered his question.
“The same ones?”
“Yeah.”
Sam nodded. “Why don’t you take Lass in?” he suggested to Molly. “I’ll take care of the horses.”
She wore a troubled look but she didn’t argue. “Would you like a glass of iced tea?” she asked the deputy.
“Not now, but thanks for asking. I’ll talk to Sam for a minute before I mosey along home.”
She took Lass and went into the house. Sam let out a breath of relief. He had some things to discuss with Merritt.
Bill followed him into the stable, lingering by the door while he removed the saddles and brushed down the horses before giving them a pail of oats.
“More rustling?” he asked when the man didn’t speak.
“Yeah, south of your place this time. Thought I would warn you. There’re rumors in the county. Ranchers are arming their hands, although the sheriff warned them not to.”
“You worried that I’ll get shot?�
�� The question was sardonic. “Think I should give myself up now?”
Bill pushed his hat back. “Don’t be a fool, Frazier. I’m not after you, but… I think someone is.”
Sam looked questioningly at the deputy.
“Your name is being linked with the rumors. I suppose you were with the missus last night and today?”
“Yeah, I was with Molly.”
“Well, I think someone is using your place as a staging area. You got some wild country back of your ranch, easy to hide a herd on it.”
“You told anybody else your suspicions?”
“Only the sheriff.”
A smile crooked Sam’s mouth. The sheriff was the same person who’d arrested him years ago. “Well, he was probably impressed with your deductions. How come he didn’t send you out to arrest me?”
“I talked him out of it.”
Sam studied the detective, who was around his age. “Because of Molly?” he asked, a tightening in his gut.
“Partly,” the man admitted, meeting his gaze. “Also, I don’t convict a man before I have evidence.”
“But someone has.” Sam thrust his hands into his back pockets and walked outside the dim stable with the deputy.
“By the way, Molly spotted some tire tracks in the pasture near Deer Ridge today. The tracks veered off toward the ravine.”
“The one that drops down to the river on your side?”
“Yes. I thought I’d head over that way in the morning and see if I could find out who was sightseeing on my land.”
“Don’t go taking the law in your own hands,” Bill advised.
“Then you’d better come with me.”
“Yeah, maybe I’d better ‘cause you sure as hell aren’t going to listen to reason.”
Sam laughed. “You can talk reason all you want on the way over there. Let’s meet at that old trailhead at the south end of the ridge. Seems like a good starting place.”
“Right. Nine o’clock?”
Sam gave him a pained look. “This is a ranch, not a banker’s office. We start at six.”
Merritt muttered an expletive, then grinned. “I’ll see you there. Keep this under your hat, okay?”
“Sure. Is this an official investigation?”
Merritt gave him an irritated frown. “Yes, but it’s on my own time, so don’t give me any grief. Or make me regret including you in on it.”
Sam nodded in reply to the steely-eyed stare he got from the lawman before Merritt strode to his patrol car and left.
He helped the men with the evening chores before going to the house and facing Molly’s curiosity. He didn’t want to worry her about rustling operations carried out on his… their place.
When they went to the kitchen for supper, he saw she had bathed and changed into pink cotton slacks and a matching knit top. Lass, clean and smiling, played in her high chair.
While the men were hanging up their hats and taking their places, Sam went over to his wife. He had a feeling he was about to make a fool of himself over her, but it didn’t matter.
She glanced at him with a smile. “Could you bring that platter? Be careful. It’s hot.”
“Sure, but first…” He leaned over and kissed her solidly on the mouth.
She was surprised, but pleased. “What was that for?”
“Because,” he said. “Just because.”
“That’s an excellent reason.”
He found, later that night, that Molly didn’t want him to be a gentleman and let her rest. She turned to him, restless with need as soon as they were alone in their room.
“Love me,” she whispered. “Love me now.”
“I will,” he promised, his head swimming with the passion she induced in him. “Always.”
Molly pushed the flying tendrils of hair back from her face. “You heard what?”
Tiffany repeated the rumor. “It’s all over town. About Sam being arrested last Friday.”
“He was not arrested,” Molly stated flatly, but softly. The children were napping. She and Tiffany were having lunch.
Indignation welled in her, a rising pool of anger on Sam’s behalf. She huffed with annoyance at how ready people were to believe the worst of another person.
“Well, he was brought in,” her assistant reminded her in an apologetic tone.
“He drove in voluntarily and talked to Bill Merritt at the sheriff’s office.”
“Did they have any evidence?”
“No.” Molly bit the word off, then was ashamed for her shortness. “The only reason they had for questioning Sam was that episode when he was a teenager.”
“Oh, yes, I remember.” Tiffany looked away. “People are talking about that, too.”
“I can imagine—that Frazier boy, always knew he’d turn out bad,” she parodied the gossip going around. “They’re jealous that he came back and turned the ranch around. Instead of picking up his land cheap in a bankruptcy sale, they had to watch while he made good.”
She stopped when she realized the other teacher was staring at her with a curious expression.
“You really love him, don’t you?” Tiffany said, not really a question, but a realization on her part.
“Of course. Why would I marry him otherwise?”
“I wasn’t sure. You were both so… calm about it. I never even saw him steal a kiss when he dropped Lass off, either before or after you were engaged.”
Molly took another bite of the soup she’d made when she first arrived at the nursery school. Chicken noodle was one of her favorites, but she hardly noticed what she was eating.
Sam had ridden out at first light yesterday and today. She’d spent Sunday with Lass, staying close to the house, waiting for Sam to return. It had been dark when he came in.
She recalled the grim weariness on his face when he’d returned in the truck and the horse trailer with two horses in it that he pulled behind the truck. She’d held Lass and watched while he groomed and fed the animals.
“Who was with you?” she’d asked.
“Merritt.”
“What were you looking for?”
“Whatever we found.”
“Did you find anything?”
“No.”
This morning he’d done the same, leaving with two horses in the trailer, heading for parts unknown. She hadn’t said anything to him about being careful. She’d simply put her arms around his waist and snuggled against him. He’d let her hold him for a minute, then he’d gently moved her aside and left.
Molly sighed. They hadn’t made love last night.
Tiffany touched her arm. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s going to be all right.”
It wasn’t.
As the month crept by, as the mesa bloomed and hummed with life, the situation grew worse. The parents of Molly’s students wouldn’t meet her eyes when they left their children or picked them up. If they did, she saw sympathy or pity in their gazes before they glanced away. The locals thought Sam was guilty.
On Friday night, she was ready when Sam came in. She followed him from the kitchen, where he left his boots, to their bedroom. Dust boiled off him like vapor with every step. He looked as if he’d been riding drag on a monthlong cattle drive and had just hit town. He headed for the shower.
When he returned to the bedroom, Molly had clean jeans, briefs and a white shirt laid out on the bed. She couldn’t help watching as he finished towel-drying his hair. She liked him best as he was, without a stitch on his hard, lean frame.
The desire to caress him all over almost overpowered her earlier decision. She forced it into abeyance.
“Get dressed,” she said. “We’re going to town.”
He tossed the towel over the back of a chair and gave her a look she couldn’t decipher… sort of belligerent. He’d never given her a cross glance before. It briefly unnerved her.
“What for?”
“I want to go dancing. Tom will watch Lass,” she said to waylay any protests. “I thought we’d have dinner at the truc
k stop, too. It’s been a while since we were there.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Dammit, Molly—”
“Yes,” she reiterated. She gave him glare for glare, determined to have her way in this one thing. She hadn’t said a word all week about him searching for the thieves all alone.
“Why?” he finally asked after a tense silence.
“Because I want to.”
He frowned at her. A smile popped on her face. He eyed it suspiciously, but he was wavering.
She removed the slippers she wore at home and put on a sexy pair of sling-back high-heel evening shoes. After refreshing her lipstick, she ran a brush through her hair.
He watched her the whole time, although he’d managed to pull on the briefs during the interval. She finished and turned to face him.
“I want you to do this for me,” she said, putting it quite simply. Her body stopped functioning while she waited.
He nodded and picked up the jeans.
Molly let out a relieved sigh. She didn’t have a backup plan in case he’d refused. “I’ll check on Lass.” She hurried down the hall. Lass was asleep.
She closed the door and went to the kitchen. There, she rang Tom on the intercom and told him they were ready to leave.
Sam joined her, his face grim. She lifted her chin. No one would hurt Sam while she was present. No one.
The first person Sam saw when they entered the truck stop was the minister and his wife. “There’s Mr. and Mrs. Liscomb,” Molly said pointedly and waved at them across the crowded room. “Let’s say hello.”
The reason for the trip came to him. His wife—his do-gooder, determined-to-do-her-part-for-him wife-was showing the world what a jewel he was. Molly took his hand and tugged him along in her wake. She tossed out greetings left and right.
He muttered a curse.
She gave him her behave-yourself look.
For his own part, he didn’t give a damn what the rest of the world thought of him. But he did care what Molly thought.
They stopped by the preacher’s table. “Hello,” Molly said cheerfully. She chatted about the weather they’d been having recently and declared spring in New Mexico was the most beautiful time and place in the world. “Don’t you agree, Sam?” she asked, forcing him into the farce of friendliness.