Rancher at Risk

by Barbara White Daille

When she had asked him to turn off the lamp, she had read his face. He had understood she was saying she trusted him.

  And he didn’t let her down.

  Being unable to see disoriented her at first, but it excited her, too, in the unexpectedness of his breath on her cheek, his lips against her throat, his hands sliding over her hips to bring her closer.

  In the dark, they were equal, each willing to share with the other. Wanting to give to the other. Eager to take turns.

  In the dark, without vision, without sound, her pleasure came from scent, touch, taste. She sought every one of these from Ryan.

  And he didn’t let her down.

  She loved this man.

  She loved the cleft in his chin and his changeable hazel eyes. His broad shoulders and warm hands. His laugh that put creases in his cheeks.

  She loved the concern in his face when she told him about her childhood. The understanding he had shown when he asked about Becky. The caring in his eyes when he talked about his son.

  She loved the way he loved her, in her bed in his arms in the dark.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sun was just coming up when Lianne left the house the next morning. Ryan had already gone to start his day, but she saw him astride his horse near the corral, looking over the new stock they had brought in earlier in the week. Even now, just the sight of him made her flush at the memory of how the darkness had freed her and what they had done.

  By the time she reached him, he had dismounted and stood waiting. The expression on his face made her heart thump double time.

  “Couldn’t stay away?” he asked.

  She laughed. “You wish. I’ve got a big day ahead of me and I wanted to get an early start.” Holding up her hand, she tapped her thumb to start the list. “First I have to finalize and practice the presentation for tomorrow—”

  He curled his fingers around hers. She looked up.

  “I told you not to worry about that, Lianne. I’ll do the presentation.”

  “No—”

  “Yes.” He dropped his hand. “I’m ranch foreman, and responsibility for the ranch comes down to me. Caleb’s trusting me.”

  I trusted you.

  “I’m still overseeing everything,” he continued, “including the school. That means the presentation.”

  “I’m afraid it doesn’t.”

  “It does. I’ve talked to Caleb about it.”

  Now her heart seemed to cease beating altogether. “You…what?” She knew she hadn’t misread those words. She just couldn’t believe he’d said them. She couldn’t believe what they meant.

  He had gone behind her back to Caleb.

  After all that had happened between them last night, after what she had said and felt and believed…

  Tears of frustration burned behind her eyelids, tears of hurt she wouldn’t show and couldn’t afford to feel. What a fool. What an idiot for beginning to believe in her dreams and forgetting cut-and-dried facts.

  Even after all she had said to him, he wouldn’t back off. He would never let her do her job on her own. He’d shown that all along.

  She tried to ignore the tightness in her chest at the thought of the damage he’d done by going to Caleb. By destroying her credibility with her boss.

  By proving trust flowed only one way between them and equality went only as far as her bed.

  She took a deep breath. Giving way to emotion again wouldn’t get the job done. And bottom line it was the kids who mattered. “My notes and the presentation are on my laptop. You’re welcome to use them. If you have trouble understanding anything, I’ll be around late this afternoon, after I’m back with the scouts.”

  “The scouts?” He frowned. “Where are you going?”

  She gestured past the bunkhouse, past the construction site, to the western boundary and the mountain ridge. “If they don’t have anything better on their agenda, I want to take them for a hike.”

  He nodded. “All right. If you set things up, let me know. I’ll go along with you.”

  Despite the sun creeping over the horizon, she shivered with a chill. Then hot anger rushed through her. “Ryan. I can’t fight you for the presentation, but I can handle taking a group of scouts on a hike. If something goes wrong and I’m not prepared for it, they will be.” He would never know how much it cost her to say those words. She forced a laugh. “That’s their motto, isn’t it? Be Prepared.”

  “It won’t hurt to have another adult along.”

  “Another? And who do you believe the other ones are? The scoutmasters? Because I know you don’t include me on that list.” She ran her fingers through her hair and tugged. “You act as if I can’t manage without you. You always have. But I can.” She brought both fists down for emphasis. To convince him. “I’m a grown woman and have lived on my own for years. Without your help. Without anyone’s help. And I’m still alive to talk about it.”

  His shoulders jerked as if he’d recoiled from an impact.

  Her breath caught. Her final words hung in the air between them like print on a page. She couldn’t take back those last few words and wouldn’t take back the rest. Instead, she inhaled slowly, pain tightening her chest again. And she waited.

  He looked at her, his eyes dark and his mouth a straight line and that muscle in his jaw ticking. Ticking…

  He didn’t say a word. Didn’t make a gesture. Didn’t move at all.

  Turning, she ran blindly toward the barn. She stumbled through the doorway and grabbed a set of reins hanging from a hook. Determination steadied her hands as she went through the steps she had copied from Tony.

  Outside the barn again, she tightened the cinch and mounted. As if following the path of the sun, the mare turned to look toward the west.

  Lianne tried to smile. Ryan might not get it, but at least the horse knew what she needed.

  They trotted past the bunkhouse where the cowboys had already begun their day, past the cabins where the scouts still slept.

  When they reached open land, she took the mare into a gallop, leaning into the rhythm, absorbing the movement, outrunning her thoughts and replacing them with the visuals around her.

  But when she left the mare in her usual resting spot at the base of the mountain and started up the trail carved among the trees, the thoughts caught up to her again. They raced through her mind the way her horse had galloped across the ranch.

  She understood Ryan now that he’d shared his past, but he still didn’t understand her. Would he get it if she used words he could relate to—bridles and bits and reins and saddle blankets?

  Then would he see how his doubts and resistance and need to control put restraints on her? How they set limitations she couldn’t accept?

  She hurried up the trail, wanting only to get to the clearing. Needing the shrine, the sunshine, the peace. The quiet.

  Sunlight glared on the surface of the stream. She squinted against the brilliance. Blinked hard to clear her eyes.

  She ran to the bridge, grabbed the rope railing, jogged onto the wooden slats. She paced across one. Two. Three.

  Four turned traitor. Four gave way.

  Before she could plant her right foot on five, four shattered beneath her.

  Her left foot plunged between sturdy slat and splintered wood. Her left hand tightened on the rope rail. Her right arm flailed, seeking. Clutching. Grasping. Touching nothing but air.

  * * *

  DAMN, THE WOMAN would drive him crazy.

  She trusted him well enough to make love with him. To let him love her in the dark. Yet she wouldn’t trust him to help her, to take care of her. To watch out for her.

  He turned from the corral and saw her, well beyond the cabins. She was already crazy, riding off alone and angry, pushing her horse so hard.

  Disasters could happen…in an instant.

  In the space of a breath.

  He grabbed his reins and mounted.

  He followed, feeling driven to ride at her heels but knowing the folly of them both traveli
ng at breakneck speed. He’d get there. He knew where she was headed.

  He just had to keep her in view.

  She never paused, never veered from her destination and, even after she had dismounted, never looked back.

  When she reached the shadow of the trees, he lost sight of her. Anxiety quickened his pace, pushed him into those shadows, crawled up his back.

  Above him he could hear her boots slapping the ground. The sound made it easier to track her. It made him more eager to get to her side. A burst of speed, a few yards’ gain, and he caught the flash of leather and denim.

  She had reached the cutoff for the rope bridge and once across that would come to the clearing.

  He had almost made the cutoff when he heard her boots on the bridge. Seconds later, wood cracked with the sound of a rifle blast.

  Heart in his throat, he vaulted the final yard upward to within sight of the bridge.

  She was trapped, her leg caught between two slats, the rotted splinters of a broken slat dangling on either side of her. She gripped the rope railing with one hand. The other flailed in space.

  Nothing he could do but race toward her and say his prayers. That she could hold on. That the bridge would hold his weight. That he would get there in time.

  His first prayer was answered, in spades.

  She found the railing with her free hand and clutched the rope, one hand beside the other. She steadied herself, changed her left hand to an underhand grip, changed her right. She tightened her fingers and pulled herself into chin-up position—just as he’d watched her do that morning in the yard. And she freed her leg from its trap.

  Prayers two and three weren’t necessary.

  But when she saw him standing at the bridge and started back in his direction, her expression told him he’d better ask for more help, fast.

  When she halted in front of him and put her hands on her hips, she looked upset. Angry-upset. Downright furious.

  She didn’t look the least bit flustered or shaken.

  Her struggle had seemed to happen in slow motion. It seemed to have taken hours. In real time only minutes—if not seconds—must have passed while she worked herself free.

  And he anticipated her words before she opened her mouth.

  “You’re overreacting.”

  Signal Street again.

  “I can’t believe you followed me.”

  “Lianne.” He took a deep breath. “You went tearing away from the house in no frame of mind to be on horseback. And look what happened.”

  “What?” She gestured toward the bridge. “I had a minor accident. I handled it.”

  No thanks to you. She could have said it but didn’t. “You might have been killed.”

  “That’s not something you can control.” Her eyes shot sparks at him. “If it had happened, I would have been the one responsible. I would have been the one not taking care of me. It’s not up to you to save me. Even a child…” She swallowed hard. “When a child grows up…” She shook her head, tugged on her hair.

  He opened his mouth, but she started again.

  “When Billy grew up, you would have let him go off on his own. That wouldn’t mean you didn’t care about him. But you would have let him live his life. You would have given him his independence. You would have trusted him.” Her voice broke.

  “Lianne—”

  “No. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want anything to do with any man who thinks I’m so useless I can’t function without his help.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What’s up with Lianne?” Tony asked.

  Ryan took his time rinsing the saddle sponge, squeezing the excess water out of it, shaking it off. Then he looked at the old man. “I don’t know. Why?”

  But he did know. She had pushed past him in a fury that morning and stalked off without giving him the chance to say another word. That was what he got for wanting to help her. That was what he got for caring that she could’ve broken her danged neck.

  He ran the sponge over the soap and started working it onto his saddle harder than necessary, considering he never missed a cleanup after a ride.

  “She came back in this morning and then tore out of here,” Tony said, “after asking me to take care of her mare. That’s not like her. Ever since she learned to tack up, she’s made a point of doing it herself.”

  She was good at making points, all right. The day she’d met him, she had counted off on her fingers every blasted thing she’d wanted to get across to him.

  She was good at wanting to do everything herself, too.

  Tony sat staring at him.

  He shrugged. “She was probably in a rush to get into the office, had a lot of work to take care of.”

  “I don’t know.” Tony shook his head. “She seemed all steamed up over something. But I guess she calmed down and got done what she needed to at the house. She went off in the car before noontime.”

  So she didn’t organize her hike with the scouts after all. He wasn’t about to take on any guilt over that. He finished drying the saddle and started working the conditioner into the smooth leather.

  Smooth as satin. Fine as silk.

  He shoved the thought away. “Then I’d reckon she went into town to see her sister and the baby.”

  “Could be. Her car’s still gone, though.”

  The news stopped his hand for a moment. Disappointment washed over him. He’d had the wild idea that maybe they could take a ride into town, go for supper, go anywhere. Just get away from the ranch and talk, the way they’d never had the chance to do.

  Yeah, wild. As if he could erase the events of this morning. As if he could rewind his life. That hadn’t worked a year ago. Why would he have a hope in hell of getting his wish now?

  He finished up and put everything back where it belonged.

  Last night, Lianne was where she belonged. But that hadn’t lasted, had it.

  And he had only himself to blame.

  He left the barn, went to shower.

  When he was done, she still hadn’t come home. This time, he didn’t feel the worry followed by the rush of fear. Probably because he felt confident about what he’d told Tony. She would be visiting at the hospital or taking care of Becky.

  Finished dressing, he decided he’d not be the best company for supper with the cowhands. Instead, he would head into town to get something to eat.

  The cab of the truck felt too quiet without the radio blaring. It felt lonely, too, which didn’t make sense at all. He and Lianne hadn’t talked much in the truck. She couldn’t read his lips when he had to keep his eyes on the road.

  From the corner of his eye, he would see her patting her thigh in time to the music—not hearing the words, she had told him, but picking up some of the drumbeats. Feeling the vibrations.

  He’d see her tapping away on that damned cell phone. Once in a while he’d glance over, and she’d meet his eyes and smile.

  And if he were really desperate for some contact, he would inhale deeply to catch the scent of her rose perfume. He thought he could smell it now but knew he was fooling himself. He’d fooled himself about a lot of things lately.

  He wasn’t deceiving himself about what he saw parked just down the street from the Double S. A silver Camry with Illinois plates.

  Inside the cafe, he scanned the booths and tables. When they didn’t offer anything of interest, he checked the row of swivel stools at the counter in the back. No luck there, either.

  He nodded at Dori and threaded his way through the room to an empty corner booth.

  She had followed. “Hello, Ryan. It’s good to see you tonight.” She held up a carafe. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “I will bring you some taco chips,” she promised.

  The chips came delivered by way of the next customer to enter the cafe. Ellamae. The woman plopped the basket onto the tabletop and settled in on the bench opposite him as if they had arranged to meet for supper. She gave him a wide smile.

&n
bsp; “I saw your truck outside,” she said. “Saw Lianne’s car, too. If I’d have known you two were meeting here, I would have waited till she was ready to walk over with me.”

  “Walk over?”

  “From the hospital, visiting Kayla and the baby. It’s just up the street. That way.” She gestured through the window beside them as if he’d asked for directions. “I’m having supper with the judge,” she added. “But don’t worry, we’ll leave you two alone as soon as Lianne gets here. I’m sure you have lots to talk about.”

  Lianne wouldn’t have supper with him if he were the last man in Flagman’s Folly and all the women and kids had gone on vacation.

  “Well, of course,” she continued, “when I saw how pretty she looked all dressed up, I should’ve known she had plans for the evening.”

  His hand jerked. Coffee sloshed over the rim of his mug. His stomach tightened. He wanted a slug of coffee but knew his throat wouldn’t cooperate.

  Ellamae watched him sop up the spill with his napkin. She had picked up on his reaction. From that first night at the Whistlestop, she had picked up on his interest in Lianne before he’d acknowledged it to himself. That night, he had seen a look in her eyes he had told himself was concern. Now he saw something he felt certain was pity.

  He braced himself to tell her the truth—he and Lianne had no plans. He and Lianne had nothing to talk about.

  The door to the cafe opened. He couldn’t keep from leaning a bit to one side to see past Ellamae. Not the person he’d hoped to see and, in fact, one he didn’t want to see at all. But the man spotted him and headed his way, thumbs hooked onto his red suspenders.

  “Well, hello there, Ryan.”

  The Texas twang brought him right back to Signal Street on his first day in town.

  The judge took a seat beside Ellamae and looked across the booth at him. “And just how are things going for you, son?”

  About as bad as they could be. He definitely didn’t want to chat with the man about that, either. As the judge himself had made a production of saying, he knew everything that went on in his town.

  Not quite. He hoped, anyhow, even though the judge had his best source of information sitting right next to him. Ellamae’s eyes gleamed, most likely proving her eagerness to fill the man in on whatever news she had to tell.