A Land Called Deseret

by Janet Dailey

  "You're right," she agreed. He walked toward the door. "Good night, Travis."

  "Good night, Rainey."

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  Chapter Eleven

  THE PACKAGES were almost heavier than LaRaine could carry. They were so bulky and cumbersome that she could barely see where she was going. She hurried down the sidewalk. She was supposed to have met Travis twenty minutes ago. She would have been on time, too, if she hadn't happened to glance in that fabric shop.

  The truck was parked at the curb. LaRaine almost sighed in relief when she saw it, knowing she would at least be relieved of her burden. The driver's door opened and Travis stepped out.

  "It's about time." He lifted the packages out of her arms and set them in the rear bed of the truck.

  "I'm sorry I'm late," LaRaine apologized, her arms quivering from carrying the heavy load. She hurried around to the passenger door, aware that Travis was anxious to get back to the ranch.

  "What did you spend your money on this time?" He slid behind the wheel and started the motor, casting a bemused glance her way.

  "Oh, I didn't spend my money," she answered brightly. "I spent yours. You owe me seventy dollars." She took a slip of paper from her purse. "Here's the receipt. Just wait until you see what I bought!"

  Travis frowned at the receipt but didn't take it. "What do you mean, you spent my money? Or maybe I should ask what did you buy?" As he turned the truck onto the street, his gaze pierced her for a lightning second.

  "You know how tacky the living room looks now that we've fixed up the kitchen," LaRaine began, unable to check the thread of excitement running through her voice. "Well, I was walking by this fabric shop, and there was a table of remnants, all upholstery material. There was one large piece of velour material. It's blue and gray with a touch of black. It will look just perfect for the sofa. Plus, I found two pieces of fabric, each of them big enough to cover the chairs. One is blue and one is gray. I thought we could re-upholster the furniture, strip the wallpaper off the walls and paint them an oyster white, or maybe repaper them with a silver pattern paper. A gray carpet with maybe a few threads of black would be perfect on the floor."

  "We aren't redecorating the living room, Rainey," he stated.

  "It wouldn't be nearly as much work as the kitchen," she reminded him. "Besides, you already have the fabric for the furniture."

  "No, you have it."

  LaRaine suddenly realized that Travis meant what he was saying. "But I bought it for you," she argued.

  "I never asked you to do it. If you spent seventy dollars for that material, that's your business. I'm not going to pay for it or reimburse you." The set of his iron jaw was as unyielding as his stand.

  "But it's part of the money I've been saving to go back to California," LaRaine protested.

  "You should have thought of that before you spent it," Travis answered without a trace of sympathy. "Now you'll have to return the material and ask for your money back."

  "It was on sale. They don't make refunds on sale items," she told him in a stiff little voice.

  "That's too bad. It looks like you're stuck with seventy dollars' worth of material, doesn't it?" There was something arrogant in the mocking look Travis gave her.

  "That's cruel, Travis," LaRaine snapped.

  "Don't blame me for your own impulsiveness," he said with infuriating calm.

  "What is this? Another lesson?" she demanded bitterly.

  "I guess it is," he admitted. "I gave in to you twice—apainted the house and remodeled the kitchen—but this time you aren't going to get your way. Maybe you'll learn that you can't decide for me what I want or when."

  "What am I supposed to do with the material? It's of no use to me." She sat close to the door, on the verge of sulking.

  "I don't care. You can reupholster the living room furniture if you wish, but you won't get any help from me."

  And she didn't. Travis didn't lift a finger to help her when she attempted to re-cover one of the chairs. Fortunately Joe came to her rescue. He didn't know any more about re-covering furniture than LaRaine did, but his mother was experience at it, so Joe asked her for help. Pride made LaRaine insist that she do it herself with only instructions from Mrs. Benteen. She wanted to prove to Travis that she could do it.

  The recliner was reupholstered in the blue fabric. The chair to the sofa was in the dove-gray color. And the sofa, LaRaine's maroon monster, was re-covered in the blue and gray patterned the velour. When the three pieces were finished, she waited for a comment from Travis.

  For an entire evening he didn't make a single reference to them. Finally LaRaine challenged him. "Well? Aren't you going to admit that it's an enormous improvement over those maroon monstrosities?"

  "Definitely." His dark eyes danced with wicked laughter. "You did an excellent job, too."

  "Thanks to Mrs. Benteen." LaRaine gave the credit where it was due. But that wasn't where her interest lay. "Naturally the furniture doesn't look as well as it will once the walls and ceiling are painted and something is done about the floor."

  "True," he agreed, but went no further.

  In exasperation, LaRaine sighed, "If you know that, why won't you let me tear that yellowed paper and something is done about the floor."

  "Why do you care what this place looks like?" Travis tilted his head to one side, studying her curiously. "You'll be leaving in a couple of weeks."

  It was true. Two more paychecks and she would have almost the five hundred dollars saved. The discovery jolted through her. There wasn't a thing waiting for her in California. But LaRaine could think of a reason that would keep her here—Travis, if he'd ask her.

  "I care because…it gives me something creative and challenging to do." She answered his question the best way she could under the circumstances.

  "In that case, go ahead."

  LaRaine blinked. She hadn't expected him to give in, certainly not without considerable arguing. "Do you mean it?"

  "Yes, on condition that I paint the ceiling," he qualified.

  Joe came into the house as Travis said the last. He glanced at LaRaine and smiled, "Did you talk him into painting the living room?"

  "Well, I didn't exactly talk him into it," she admitted, still surprised by how easily Travis had given in when he had been so adamant before. "He just agreed."

  "When do we start?" Joe asked.

  "You don't have to help," LaRaine protested. "Travis is going to do the ceiling. I can paint the walls."

  "I don't mind. In fact, I enjoy helping you two fix this place up," he insisted. "Besides, it isn't going to be easy getting this paper off the walls."

  Since Travis didn't make an objection, LaRaine accepted Joe's offer to help. But she wondered if Travis had noticed the way Joe had linked them together. She wasn't the only one who was beginning to think she belonged there on a permanent basis. Why couldn't Travis? This wasn't the kind of life she wanted…was it? But that was ridiculous. Everything about her seemed to be undergoing a change, her values, her life-style and her ambitions.

  Removing the old wallpaper proved the most difficult task in redecorating the living room. The painting was accomplished over the space of two days. For the time being, the floor would stay as it was until the carpeting could be selected and laid.

  Even without the carpet, the room showed the promise of gently country elegance that LaRaine had envisaged. She wandered about the room, running a trailing hand along the length of the sofa back. She stopped at the desk where Travis worked most evenings, sitting in its straight-backed chair. She glance curiously through the papers stacked on top of it.

  She wasn't consciously snooping. The action was prompted by a curiosity to know more about how the ranch was run than anything else. There was very little to do this afternoon until Travis and Joe returned. She was filling time.

  Absently she opened a side drawer. It contained ledger books and canceled check. Bookkeeping was something that she didn't understand. She closed t
he drawer and opened a second. In among the papers, splash of color caught her eye and she took a closer look.

  It was a Christmas card. How unusual! LaRaine thought. Why would Travis be saving a Christmas card? And why would he keep it in this drawer? She knew she should leave it where it was, but curiosity got the best of her.

  Taking it out of the drawer, she opened it. The usual Christmas message was printed inside, and beneath it one name leaped out from the others--Natalie. The muscles around her heart constricted in sharp pain. It hurt to breathe. She read the rest of the names on the card. It was signed: "Merry Christmas! Colter, Natalie, Missy, Ricky, and Stephanie."

  It was obvious that Colter was Natalie's husband. LaRaine supposed the other names were their children. Natalie was married, but it didn't necessarily mean she was married when Travis had known her. She could have chosen this Colter instead of Travis. Although why, LaRaine could have never guess.

  None of that was important anyway. Travis had kept the card—that was what mattered. He had kept the card because it was signed by Natalie, and despite the fact that it carried her husband and children's names. It hurt to know he love Natalie that much.

  Strangely there was none of the consuming, destroying jealousy she had known when other women had claimed the attention of previous men-friends. This time, when she really cared about the man, she felt a deep, abiding ache that no tears could assuage.

  Footsteps clumped on the floorboards of the porch. Startled, LaRaine rose from the chair. She forgot the brightly colored card in her hand. When she remembered, there wasn't time to return it to the drawer before Travis walked in. She barely managed to hide it behind her back. Her guilty conscience made her wonder whether it was her furtive movement that had drawn his immediate attention or if he had been looking for her.

  "Hi, Rainey." His half-smile seemed natural enough. "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing," she rushed, enforcing the answer with a quick, negative shake of her head.

  A quick brow lifted. "Nothing?" His gaze swept her, alert and inspecting. "It looks to me as if you're up to something." He seemed amused rather than suspicious.

  The card behind her back was scorching LaRaine's fingers. Her breathing was quick and uneven, panic quivering through her nerve ends. She had to distract him, she didn't want him to discover she had been snooping through his papers, however unmaliciously.

  "Don't be silly." Her denying laugh came out brittle.

  "Now I'm convinced. What are you plotting, Rainey?" His attitude remained amused and indulgent. "There aren't that many rooms left in the house. Which one is next?"

  "Actually—" his comment reminding LaRaine of what had been only a half-formed idea "—I was thinking about my bedroom."

  "I thought so," Travis nodded.

  "It isn't what you're thinking," she hurried.

  "It isn't?" he questioned skeptically.

  "No." LaRaine couldn't move away from the desk for fear Travis would notice the card she was trying hide from him. "What I had in mind was turning the downstairs bedroom, my room, into a study."

  "A study?" He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and bending one knee to hook a heel over the arch of a boot.

  Her hand ran nervously over the smooth wooden back of the chair. "Every man should have a place to work in private. The bedroom would work perfectly." She improvised as she went along. "We could panel the walls, move your desk in there and build some shelves so there'd a place for your husbandry books."

  "It would give me a chance to spread out a bit and keep down the clutter," Travis admitted.

  "We could even put in an outside door. It could be your ranch office as well as your study. You could conduct business from there. People, the cattle buyers and grain sellers and other people you deal with, could come there to meet with you," she elaborated.

  "You make it sound as if there are people coming and going all the time," he said dryly.

  "Maybe not now, but in time I'm sure they will. I've listened to you and Joe talk at the table. You've made a lot of improvements on this ranch since you bought it—drilled more wells and acquired more grazing leases," LaRaine remembered. "I've listened to you and Joe discussing the possibilities of putting more land under irrigation to raise more hay and other crops."

  "My, my what big ears you have!" Travis drawled.

  "If you didn't want me to know, you shouldn't have talked about it in front of me," she defended herself. "You can't deny that you're ambitious. You intend to eventually make this ranch the biggest and best around."

  "It isn't going to happen overnight. It's going to take years and a lot of hard work." His gaze became aloof and thoughtful, measuring her in a way that disturbed her.

  "I realize that." She gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence. "What do you think of my idea about changing the bedroom into a study? There are three empty bedrooms upstairs, so it isn't as if there's a shortage of places to sleep."

  "It sounds like a practical idea." Travis straightened from the wall. "I'm just curious about whose future you're planning."

  "I don't know what you mean." Her fingers trembled around the Christmas card. "I'm not planning anyone's future."

  "Aren't you?" Travis moved toward her.

  LaRaine wanted to retreat, but the wall was only two feet behind her. She didn't dare turn or he'd see the card.

  "If I'm planning any future, it's for the house," she insisted.

  "What about yours? You haven't any thought in you mind about yourself?" He was towering in front of her, only a corner of the chair separating them.

  "Me?" she laughed nervously. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm going to California in a couple of weeks—or had you forgotten? What could turning the bedroom into a study have to do with me?"

  Travis took off his stetson and set it on the desktop. "Are you leaving?"

  "Not if you don't want me to—but LaRaine couldn't say that. "Do you think you'll miss me?"

  "Yes." Without elaboration.

  "I'll miss you and this place," she admitted, then pulled a wry smile. "Although I won't miss washing dishes!"

  She instantly wished she hadn't added the last. It had drawn his gaze to her hand on the chairback, and instantly noticed the absence of her other hand.

  "What have you got behind your back?" He asked the question in simple curiosity, but when LaRaine stiffened guiltily and the color washed from her face, his eyes became hard with suspicion. "What are you trying to hide from me?" He demanded.

  "Nothing." Denying it was the worst thing she could have done.

  "I want to know what it is, Rainey."

  "Travis, no," she protested.

  With calm deliberation, he pushed the chair up to the desk, eliminating the one obstacle in his path to her. As he moved forward, LaRaine backed up until the wall stopped her. She was trapped with no escape. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

  "Show it to me." Travis stood before her, challenging in that quietly dangerous way.

  "No." Her dark eyes implored him not to force the issue, but he ignored their plea. She pressed herself tightly against the wall, protectively shielding the card with her body.

  Firmly, without roughness, Travis grasped her waist and pulled her away from the wall. She struggled frantically, but he simply overpowered her. Reaching behind her, he imprisoned her waist and twisted her arm to the front. When he saw the colorful Christmas card her guilty fingers held, LaRaine felt his muscles bunch in silent rage. She flinched under his harshly accusing eyes.

  "What are doing with this?" he demanded savagely.

  "I…I found it," she whispered.

  "You've been going through my desk." The condemnation was swift and cold, shivering over her skin in icy chills. He ripped the card from her hand and let her go. "What were you looking for: My bank statements? I'm sorry, but you were in the wrong drawer. They're here." He snapped open a drawer to show her where they were.

  "I wasn't snooping, Travis, I swear." Her voice bro
ke and she tried to steady it. "I was just curious."

  "What were you trying find out? How much I was worth?" he snarled over his shoulder, his mouth thin with contempt.

  "No," LaRaine denied quickly. "It never even occurred to me. It's the truth. I don't even know why I was looking through the drawers."

  "It was just idle curiosity, I suppose," he taunted.

  "Yes, that's all it was," she insisted. "I didn't touch a thing." Her gaze fell on the Christmas card his whitened fingers held. "Not until I saw that card, anyway. I couldn't imagine why you were saving a Christmas card. Then when I opened it and say Natalie's name I…I knew."

  Travis stared at the card, his expression unbelievably grim. In a display of suppressed violence he tossed it in the wastebasket. The involuntary gasp of surprise from LaRaine drew his pinning gaze.

  "There isn't any reason to keep it anymore," he snapped, and raked a hand through his hair, rumpling its thickness.

  "Colter is her husband?" LaRaine gave the statement the inflection of a question.

  "Yes." A one word answer that raised more questions.

  "Did she…jilt you to marry him?" she asked hesitantly.

  Travis tipped his head back, a mirthless chuckle coming from his throat. "You've been aching to know the whole sordid story for months, haven't you?"

  LaRaine swallowed. The crazy thing was she didn't want to know about it, not anymore. There was already too much pain. But Travis took her silence as a positive response.

  "I worked for Colter." Travis held her gaze, refusing to let her look away. "I was his ranch foreman for more years than I care to remember. I met Natalie for the first time after Colter had married her. In the beginning she wasn't happy there, but then Colter's home was never a happy place. She wasn't there for long before I realized I was falling in love with her." His voice seemed devoid of emotion. "I should have left then, but I couldn't as long as I thought she might need me. When I realized she didn't—well, it was a toss-up as to whether I was fired or quit." His mouth quirked in a cynical smile. "That's the story. Are you satisfied?"

  "No," she muttered.

  "Sorry I couldn't fill you in on all the details of our affair, but there weren't any," Travis said flatly.