Rancher's Bride

by Jeanne Allan

  Dallas blinked open her eyes. The room was dark and she could barely make out Clay's form leaning over the bed. 'Why are you still up?' she whispered. 'Is something wrong with Nicky?'

  'No. I was sitting here,' he nodded towards the chair across the room, 'in case you needed anything.' He helped her sit up and handed her a glass and a pain pill. 'How's the ankle?'

  She swallowed the water gratefully. 'Hurts.' Lying back down, she said, 'I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused. Sara said you organised an extensive search party.'

  Clay pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. 'I'll never be able to face my neighbours again. Clay Dalton's wife falling off a horse.'

  'I'm sorry, I—'

  'I was teasing you, Dallas, trying to take your mind off your pain. Lord knows it was no joke when Molly came home alone.'

  'No,' she said bitterly. 'That's not the joke. The joke is us. Thinking we could make this work.' She recalled her earlier thoughts. 'You expected too much of me.'

  Clay walked back to the chair. His disembodied voice was harsh. 'I guess I did. If it makes you feel any better, you were right all along. A marriage is more than two people living in the same house, sharing the same bed. When there's no love between a husband and a wife, then the marriage is a sham, unfair to either partner.' He hesitated before adding, 'Unfortunately, love can't be forced.'

  'No,' Dallas said listlessly. Clay was telling her that he could never love her. She thought of the evening he'd confessed that in his office. Only then he'd thought it didn't matter. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and then her eyes slowly closed as she drifted back into a pill-induced sleep.

  Her room was bright with sunshine when a giggle sounded outside the bedroom door. Dallas opened her eyes. Nicky grinned at her before yelling, 'She's awake!'

  'How are you this morning?' Dallas asked.

  Nicky skipped into the room. 'Guess what? Today is Saturday and I don't have school and Clay and I are playing nurse.' She giggled again. 'You're our patient.'

  Dallas smiled. 'I'm not sure I like the sound of that.'

  Clay shoved open her bedroom door with his foot just in time to hear her comment. 'Do I detect a certain lack of confidence in our abilities?' he asked, placing an enormous tray in front of her as she sat up in bed. Odd bits of china and crystal held coffee, juice, eggs, toast, jam, butter and bacon.

  Dallas looked at Clay in dismay. 'Sara shouldn't have come on her day off. Cereal or something would have been fine.'

  'Did you hear that, Nicky? Dallas thinks Sara fixed this magnificent breakfast,' Clay said.

  'Me and Clay cooked,' Nicky said proudly. 'I made the toast and poured the juice. Clay let me pick out the dishes. Don't they look pretty?' She surveyed the tray complacently and then perched on Clay's lap, both of them watching Dallas with expectant faces.

  Dallas gave them a weak smile. She hoped she could choke down something. A minute later she was practically inhaling the food. 'This tastes wonderful. You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble,' she mumbled around a mouthful of eggs.

  Clay grinned. 'You don't have to eat it if it's that bad.'

  Dallas wiped her mouth with her napkin and pushed aside her empty dishes. 'I never did eat dinner last night,' she offered in apology for her table manners. 'Did you really fix this?'

  'Come on, Dallas. The man who would starve to death without a woman around is nothing more than a tired cliché these days,' Clay said. 'I can even wash my own socks.'

  'No wonder you don't need a wife,' Dallas said.

  Her comment wiped the grin from Clay's face. 'I wasn't sure if you would remember our conversation from last night.'

  'Some things are difficult to forget.' She twisted her wedding-ring. 'This little experiment has certainly given me plenty to remember. Blizzards, cattle rustlers, squatters' cabins, bucking broncos.'

  Clay gave her a twisted smile. 'Did you hate it so much?'

  'It was all right.' Not for a million dollars would she admit how much she had loved her stay and how much she would miss the ranch. Clay would only think that she was begging him to change his mind about the divorce. Her lips trembled. 'Once I said it was no place for a child. I was wrong about that.'

  Clay glanced at the small girl still on his lap. 'We'll have to talk about Nicky.'

  At the sound of her name, Nicky hopped down. 'Guess what, Dallas? This afternoon, if you're good enough to leave alone, me and Clay are going to the Bealls'. Clay said they have some new kittens and I get one. For my very own.'

  Dallas couldn't help but respond to the child's enthusiasm. 'That's wonderful.' She smiled at Clay. 'It's a great idea.'

  'You gave it to me. There are so many animals around here that it never occurred to me until last night that Nicky doesn't have one that's hers. Every kid should have a pet. Didn't you?'

  Dallas shook her head. 'I always wanted a cat, but my folks thought it would be too difficult, moving as much as we did.'

  Clay set her crutches beside the bed and picked up the tray. 'Nicky and I are going to do the dishes… yes,' he said over the child's wail, 'we are. You can come up and entertain Dallas afterwards.' He looked at Dallas. 'Holler if you need anything.'

  Clay was good with Nicky. Dallas would miss the child, but she needn't worry about her. Maybe Clay wouldn't always do things the way Dallas would, but he loved Nicky and would take good care of her. Nicky would be all right. An aching void opened before Dallas, and her fingers curled with pain. Surely Clay would understand that Nicky had already lost too many people in her life to lose Dallas, too. He wouldn't make Dallas give Nicky up totally. He'd already forced Dallas to give up so much. No—that wasn't true. Clay hadn't forced her to marry him. Not really. She'd wanted to do it for Nicky. Her hands relaxed. Clay would be fair; he'd understand that it was in Nicky's best interests for her and Dallas to maintain contact. Maybe Dallas could even visit them on the ranch.

  She picked up a book to read, but it was soon abandoned as she lost herself in daydreams. She was riding a big black stallion named Dynamite. Clay was on crutches and she was feeding the cows for him. Clay was thanking her for convincing Terry to stop rustling. Women at a party were saying that Clay had been crazy to divorce a wife such as Dallas. A wife who could ride with the best of them, who rescued cows in a blizzard, who whipped up gourmet food for a neighbourhood party, and who had all the men wishing they could sleep with her. And Clay. Bemoaning the fact that he'd sent her away. Begging her to come back. She smiled with sleepy satisfaction. Let him beg.

  'Are you awake, Dallas?' Nicky was peeking around the door. When she saw Dallas's opened eyes, she bounced into the bedroom carrying a calico kitten. 'His name is Patches,' she said, holding him out.

  Dallas dutifully admired the kitten before giving him back to Nicky as Clay came in.

  'This little fellow,' Clay set a honey-coloured kitten on the covers beside Dallas, 'followed us home, miaowing all the way.'

  'He was saying, "I want to live with Dallas, I want to live with Dallas".' Nicky giggled with excitement. 'He didn't really follow us home. Clay gotted him for you. Are you surprised?'

  'I certainly am.' Dallas held up the warm, furry bundle. The kitten yawned in her face, his pink mouth opening wide. 'He's so sweet. Is he really for me? What's his name?'

  'He's yours. You name him,' Clay said.

  Dallas set the kitten down on the covers and watched him sneak up and pounce on her book. 'He's almost the same colour as Molly,' she said. 'What kind of horse did you say she is?'

  'Buckskin, mostly.'

  'That's it, then. I'll name him Buck.' She cuddled the tiny animal in her lap. 'What do you think, Buck? How's that for a real western name?' The kitten was fast asleep. Dallas gave Clay a quick look. 'Thank you.'

  He shrugged off her thanks. 'The Bealls had four kittens left. I was lucky to get out of there with only two.' He watched Nicky scamper off to her room to play with her kitten. 'About Nicky,' he began abruptly.

  Dallas had been petting the kitten, but
now her hand froze, and anger burst from within her. 'I suppose this kitten is supposed to be compensation for my big sacrifice,' she said.

  'I'm sorry. I know you gave up a lot…' Clay gestured helplessly, his shoulders sagging. 'You'll meet someone, fall in love and be able to provide Nicky with a home and a real family.'

  'And until I marry this mythical man, Nicky stays with you?'

  'No. I won't fight for custody. You're right. You're better at this parenting stuff.' He paused in the doorway, his back to her. 'I know you'll be fair about her visiting…and stuff. I…my dad…will miss her.' He disappeared from view.

  Dallas slumped against the pillows, weak with astonishment. Clay was conceding custody, giving her what she wanted. Then why did she feel so miserable? The answer came quickly. She didn't want to leave, even with Nicky. She didn't want a divorce.

  Clay had totally disrupted her life, practically forcing her to marry him. She'd changed her whole life for him and now he was rejecting her sacrifice. Damn him. He was arrogant, he was bossy, he was… strong. Not just physically. His was the kind of strength that was supported by quiet self-confidence. Tall in the saddle, Clay was the epitome of the rugged western hero, yet his masculinity was secure enough that he had no qualms about cooking her breakfast or confessing to fears or apologising.

  The kitten had looked so tiny in Clay's large hands, yet so secure. Nicky instinctively trusted Clay, openly showering him with her love. Even Dallas had never doubted that Clay would come to her rescue when she'd fallen from Molly. She'd needed him and he'd come. As she would always need him. Clay was fun, interesting, intelligent, hard-working, honest, and the perfect husband for Dallas.

  Tears trickled from her eyes. When had Clay Dalton become essential to her life? How could she have fallen in love with him without even knowing it? Love. Suddenly it was simply there. The way a smile crinkled his face. The tenderness in his eyes when he talked to Nicky. His concern over Dallas's happiness. His willingness to sacrifice his future for his brother's child. Dallas's eyes slowly closed. The fluid way he moved. The way his mouth felt against hers.

  She couldn't swallow over the lump in her throat. Of all the stupid things to do—to fall in love with her husband. Her husband who wanted to divorce her because he couldn't love her. Because he had already given his heart to a dead woman. A pain almost too intense to bear washed over her.

  The kitten roused Dallas from her self-pitying reverie as he miaowed plaintively at the closed bedroom door. Dallas glanced doubtfully at her plaster-encased ankle. Only a sprain, the doctor had said, but he had still put on a cast. She wasn't very steady on her crutches yet, but she ought to at least be able to make it to the head of the stairs. Buck disappeared before she reached the staircase, and Dallas paused to search for him. Below her, the door to Clay's study was open. Before Dallas could call to Clay, she heard his father speak.

  'Clay, I don't mean to stick my nose into your business—'

  'Then don't,' Clay interrupted his father.

  For a few moments, the silence was broken only by the clinking of glasses.

  'There's something strange about your finding Dallas in that old cabin,' Peter finally said. 'When I asked her about it, she got a funny look on her face and mumbled something about Molly taking her there. I find that downright odd that a horse would go to an empty cabin instead of heading for the barn.'

  'Are you accusing Dallas of arranging to meet someone there?' Clay asked in a cold voice.

  'Good golly, no. I wouldn't believe it if you told me she did. I like that gal. She's got gumption. Besides, she has an honest face if I ever saw one.'

  Clay gave a short laugh. 'Believe it or not, that's what she said about you.'

  'Did she?' Peter sounded pleased. 'Well, then, how did she get to the cabin?'

  Clay's next words caught Dallas by surprise. 'Dad, did you ever wonder what Kyle did all those nights he spent away from the ranch?'

  'Holed up in some motel and drank, I suppose. Anything to get away from that bitch he married.'

  'He was sleeping with Mercedes Irving,' Clay said flatly.

  Peter didn't answer for a long time. When he did, his voice was heavy with pain. 'Yeah. I wondered. Saw his car over there a couple of times when it shouldn't have been. How'd you know?'

  'He let it slip once. The point is, somehow Alanna found out. And she decided tit for tat.'

  There was another long silence before Peter asked, 'Who?'

  'Terry Brock.'

  'That lazy, no-account… Why him?'

  'Can you think of anyone who would infuriate Kyle more?' Peter must have shaken his head. 'Neither could Alanna. I wasn't sure, but I suspected. They were meeting at the cabin. Molly remembered hay was cached there and she took Dallas there once. However, the other night,' Clay's voice hardened, 'Terry took her there.'

  'Terry and Dallas?'

  'No, dammit. Terry was helping himself to a few of my cattle when he ran across Dallas.' Clay made a disgusted sound. 'Apparently he helped her as a sort of memorial to Alanna.'

  'Rustling cattle and you didn't sic the sheriff on him!'

  'I told him I'd let him go this time, if he kept his mouth shut about him and Alanna.'

  'Listen, Clay. Everyone knows Kyle was drinking that night because he was furious with his wife. He had probably found out about Terry. She was a harlot. Why would you protect her?'

  'I'm not protecting Alanna. I'm protecting Dallas. Others might have suspected Terry and Alanna. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea about Dallas. Be-sides…' Clay hesitated. 'Dallas idolised her cousin, and she thought Terry the worst kind of slime. How would she feel if she knew the two of them were having an affair?'

  'Don't you think it's about time Dallas opened her eyes to the kind of woman Alanna was?'

  'Why don't you tell her?' Clay's laugh was mocking. 'That's what I thought.' He paused. 'Dallas accused me of refusing to see what Kyle had become. She was right. Maybe Dallas is blind as a bat when it comes to Alanna, but Kyle was certainly no candidate for sainthood after that accident.'

  'Yeah, but that woman—'

  'No. We have to quit lying to ourselves. We saw enough of them to know they were happy before Kyle resigned from the Navy. Their problems stemmed from his plane crash.' Dallas could hear Clay pacing across the floor. 'Why didn't we face the facts and force Kyle to get help?'

  'I blame myself. I never did understand Kyle.' Peter sounded bewildered.

  'We can't change the past.' Clay sighed heavily. 'The important thing now is to do right by Nicky.' His voice changed. 'What have we here? Dallas's kitten must have got out of her room while she was sleeping.'

  Dallas fled back to her room as quickly and quietly as her crutches allowed. Who said eavesdroppers never heard any good of themselves? Clay had been protecting her. Furthermore, there had been nothing between Clay and Alanna. She felt like shouting the news from the top of the Spanish Peaks.

  Her happiness evaporated as quickly as it had come. If Alanna wasn't the obstacle between her and Clay, what was? Why was he so anxious to divorce her? Just because he doesn't love Alanna, it doesn't mean he has to fall in love with you, an inner voice chided. Dallas pounded her pillow. Darn it, why not? What was wrong with her? If Clay Dalton thought he could get rid of her just like that, he had another think coming.

  She was ready for him by the time he brought up dinner. Nicky had been in and out all afternoon, and Dallas had read her a bedtime story, but she'd still had plenty of time to plan. Clay Dalton wasn't going to send her back to Virginia like a—a jacket he'd decided didn't suit him.

  Clay set a tray in front of her and then cleared a spot from her bedside table. 'I thought I'd eat up here with you. I fed Nicky earlier, and the dining-room seemed awfully lonely.'

  'You may as well get used to it,' Dallas said in an unfeeling voice. He needn't expect sympathy from her.

  Clay shot a quick look at her. 'Ankle bothering you?'

  'I'll live. I've been thinking about
our divorce.' She took a bite out of her hamburger.

  'And?' he asked, a wary look on his face.

  'I think you've been most unfair. I sacrificed my home, my job, my friends—and all at your insistence. Do you really think that a casual "I'm sorry" makes up for all that?'

  'No, I—'

  'Good.' She bit a pickle in half. 'Because I'm going to give you a chance to show you're truly sorry. You can have your divorce. I'm taking Nicky, and,' she paused for effect, 'I want half the ranch.'

  'Half the…!' Clay choked on the words. 'You're joking.'

  'I'm perfectly serious. This marriage has been merely a minor inconvenience for you. Maybe if I make it more painful, the next time you have some hare-brained scheme, you'll think it through before charging full speed ahead, damn the torpedoes.'

  'I don't know what kind of crazy trick you think you're pulling here, but you're not going to get away with it.'

  'Crazy trick? You can accuse me of pulling a crazy trick? Who was the one who came up with the dumb idea of getting married in the first place?' Dallas asked.

  'I admitted it was an asinine—'

  'To call it asinine is to give it too much credit!' Dallas was yelling as loud as he was. She took a deep breath. 'You're going to wake up Nicky.'

  'Yes, Nicky. You wouldn't want to forget her,' he jeered. 'After all, she's your excuse for being here. When did you decide that you were on to a good thing and that you might be able to get your greedy little hands on what's mine?'

  'You're the one who called it "our place".'

  'Only because we're married. Once we're divorced, dear wife, you won't own so much as the bed you're sleeping in.'

  'Wrong,' Dallas said sweetly. 'This bed came from my family.' The rage boiling across the room gave her an immense feeling of satisfaction. 'Since you seem to feel so strongly about not sharing the ranch, perhaps we can bargain.'

  'And how much is that going to cost me?' Clay asked grimly.

  'The house.'

  'If you think I'm going to let you sell this house that's been in my family since it was built—'

  'Who said anything about selling? I intend to live here.'