by Jeanne Allan
The wind had drifted the snow in this area leaving patches of ground covered with only an inch or so of snow. Luke urged his reddish horse, Durango, into a ground-covering gait. They didn’t so much trot as flow up the hill. On top Luke sat silhouetted against the sky, raised up in his saddle, looking in all directions. Master of all he surveyed, JJ. thought, in his sheepskin jacket and cowboy hat tipped low over his forehead. He didn’t look like a man who’d be happy trapped in traffic jams on Denver’s thoroughfares. Like the eagles, Luke needed room in which to soar.
The snow sparkled and crunched beneath Fawn’s trudging feet. J.J. winced and shifted her smarting bottom, searching in vain for a more comfortable position. From the top of the rise, Luke waved to her, signaling her to join him. She tapped Fawn’s side with her heel, then desperately hung on to the saddle horn as the mare jogged up the rise. Every time one of Fawn’s hooves hit the ground, pain jolted through J.J.’s body. She and Fawn definitely did not flow up the hill.
“How you doing, tenderfoot?”
“My feet aren’t what’s tender.” Luke’s aviator sunglasses reflected twin images of herself. A knit band covered her ears under the felt wide-brimmed hat Luke had plonked on her head. In spite of the sunscreen he’d insisted she slather on her face, she could almost see her nose turning red. She couldn’t see Luke’s eyes, but she sensed him staring at her. “What are you looking at? My nose is sunburned, isn’t it?”
“It’s a little pink. Looks kinda cute.” At the grimace she gave him, he said, “Look around. Take your mind off your troubles.”
“It’s not troubles my mind is on.”
Luke grinned, but wisely refrained from comment. Instead he pointed out the Park Range to the west, the Medicine Bow Range to the east, the Never Summer Range to the southeast and the Rabbit Ears Range to the south. “North Park is a intermountain glacial basin. The headwaters of the North Platte River are here, and the tributaries and creeks running into the Platte attracted people to this valley. The Ute Indians hunted here in the summer. Miners and trappers came looking for gold and furs. Explorers, including John Fremont, wandered through, but it took farmers and ranchers in the late 1800s to homestead and settle the valley.”
“Including your Stirling ancestors.”
He nodded. “A number of ranches around here are owned by families who go back to those early settlers. Families who worked hard to keep their ranches going, at times in the face of incredible odds—the depression, the vagaries of the market, the weather.” Luke looked around. “All this is their reward.”
“All what? Sunburn, frostbite and sore bottoms? I’ll bet there were Stirlings who could hardly wait to escape to a job in the city. For most of us, heated office buildings win out over feeding cows in blizzards any day.”
“I’ve never understood that. I couldn’t leave the land. Ranching isn’t a job—it’s a way of life. You work hard, sleep sound, breathe fresh air.” He gazed into the distance, his hands resting on the saddle horn. “A man has room to stretch. There’s not a hell of a lot of glamour to this life, but I’m my own man out here. It suits me,” he added simply.
He’d be his own man wherever he was, whatever he did. And judging by what she’d seen so far, there wasn’t much Luke couldn’t do. Cowhand, horse trainer, fence mender, businessman, mechanic, construction worker, odd jobs worker. Lover.
Fawn moved unexpectedly as J.J. involuntarily squeezed the mare between her legs. J.J. clutched the saddle horn and centered herself back in the saddle, replacing her foot in a lost stirrup, And resolved to pay more attention to what she was doing and less to what she wasn’t doing.
“Damn,” Luke said.
“It’s not my fault she has St. Vitus’ dance.”
Luke looked at the placid dun-colored mare and then at JJ. “What are you talking about?”
“Never mind. What are you talking about?”
“Look down there. Snow drifted up and over the fence and the wind packed it down. Those cows have walked right over it. We’ll have to move this whole group to the next pasture.”
“Why can’t you feed them over there?”
“That’s not our land. If we don’t move those cows, the whole herd will find its way over there.”
“Why don’t they come back the way they went?”
“My guess is they can’t. The other side of the drift slopes south. The sun came out yesterday once the snow stopped, and the surface of the drift on that side probably melted, then froze during the night. I’ll bet that slope is slicker ’n greased lightning. Cows going over the fence this morning could have met with real trouble. We’ll need to check for broken legs and sprained knees.” Luke headed his horse toward a large white metal gate in the fence. “Let’s move ’em out.”
“No way.” J.J. followed him through the opened gate. “I’m not breaking my neck rounding up any cows.”
“I’ll swing out and gather any strays. Fawn’s no cow pony. All you have to do is get behind the cattle and ride slowly, moving them toward the gate. You won’t have any trouble.” Grinning at the skeptical look on her face, he headed for a small willow-lined gully, quickly disappearing from sight.
J.J. leaned on the saddle horn, levering her sore bottom out of the saddle. She looked at the half-dozen cows this side of the fence. The cows stared impassively back. They had no intention of going through that gate. She knew it and they knew it. If they could talk they’d be taunting her, “Betcha can’t make us. Betcha can’t, betcha can’t.” J.J. could almost see her younger brothers’ faces imprinted on the cows. “Just watch me,” she shouted.
Fawn snorted in alarm, gave a little jump and J.J. catapulted through the air. She landed flat on her back atop crusted snow as soft as concrete. The fall knocked the air from her, and she doubled up in pain until she could breathe again. Regaining her breath occurred simultaneously with the realization she was on the ground in the middle of a herd of cows. Cautiously she opened her eyes and raised her head to look around. The last of the cows trotted docilely through the open gate. Fawn, one rein dragging on the snow, ambled behind them.
J.J. flopped back to the ground. As mattresses go, the packed snow was hard and cold. For comfort it was a million times better than riding Fawn. J.J. shut her eyes. From the other side of the fence came the sounds of mooing cattle. She heard the snow collapsing beneath their enormous hooves. Fawn nickered quizzically, no doubt wondering at the peculiar behavior of her erstwhile rider.
Let her wonder. J.J. thought she might never move again.
Gradually an odd sensation of being watched prickled the back of J.J.’s neck. Cold snow, she tried to convince herself, but the eerie feeling persisted. She opened her eyes. And immediately wished she hadn’t. Five cows ringed her, puzzlement writ large on their bovine faces. Disgusting drool dripped from noses and mouths. J.J. slammed her eyelids down. Play dead, she told herself. Surely that’s what they always advise when you’re attacked by wild animals. Her muscles locked in dreaded anticipation of tons of cow trampling her body.
Around her the snow snapped and crackled. The next sound would be that of her head popping. One cow, then another mooed. JJ.’s pulse raced. with fear. Blood thudded against her eardrums. Something touched her chest then savagely ripped at her down ski parka. J.J. let out a blood-curdling scream.
“What the hell?”
Her eyes popped open. Luke’s face hovered over her. He’d discarded his hat, and his dark brown hair looked black in the glaring sunlight, the undisciplined wave hanging down over his forehead. His dark eyebrows met in a heavy frown above eyes JJ. would have sworn were filled with fear before he blinked all emotion from them. Nostrils flared at the end of his well-shaped nose, and his lips thinned. She’d always admired his strong jaw. A jaw that now appeared to be hewn from stone.
J.J. forgot her fall, the cows, her aching muscles, her cold bed. Reaching up with a gloved finger, she traced the shadowy cleft in his chin. “Do you have any idea how sexy this is?”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me?”
She ran her finger along his bottom lip and considered his reaction if she pulled his head down within range of her mouth. “Why did I scare you?” she asked absently.
Luke’s frown deepened. “Are you all right? Did you hit your head when you fell?”
J.J. gave a little laugh. “I hit everything.” She smoothed the deep V between his eyes. “If you don’t quit frowning, you’ll get horrible wrinkles.”
He grabbed her fingers, squeezing them painfully. “What happened?”
She lifted her other hand and ran her fingers over his jawline. The jerking muscle fascinated her. He’d asked her something. “What happened?” she repeated in a vague voice before giving him a slow, seductive smile. “Nothing yet. How long does a gal have to wait before a cowboy gets around to kissing her?”
Luke froze, his narrowed gaze skimming over her face. “Oh hell,” he said and lowered his head, slanting his mouth unceremoniously over hers.
His lips were hard and cold. They sent a river of liquid heat through J.J.’s veins. Heat that spread and intensified as Luke blanketed her body with his. Holding her face between his gloved hands, he thrust his tongue between her lips and took possession of her mouth. J.J. wrapped her arms around his middle, fitting their bodies together as their tongues engaged in a fierce mating dance. Their legs tangled, one of Luke’s dividing her thighs. His nose was cold, his mouth moist and hot. She hugged him tighter, trying to crawl into his skin. A thin cracking noise split the air.
Luke broke off the kiss. “Damn it, O’Brien, what the hell are you doing laying on the ground? When I saw you I thought—” He stopped short, pressing his lips tightly together.
“Thought what?” she asked inattentively, admiring his cleft chin. If she lifted her head the tiniest little bit, she could explore it with her tongue. There was something erotic about whisker stubble rasping against the tip of her tongue.
Before she could act on the thought, Luke unlocked her hands from behind him and sat up. He pulled a pair of sunglasses from the breast pocket of his heavy jacket. The bridge of the glasses had snapped in two. He dangled the two pieces over her nose.
J.J. shrugged. “Sue me.”
“Sue you. I ought to—” He clamped his mouth shut and sprang abruptly to his feet.
J.J.’s gaze leisurely traveled over Luke’s worn boots and up his long, denim-covered legs.
“I’m going to ask you one more time.” Ramming the broken glasses back into his pocket, he planted his fists on his hips and glared down at JJ.. “What happened? Are you okay?”
The anger in his voice captured JJ.’s full attention. Luke Remington was absolutely furious. Cautiously she raised her head and looked around. The cows no longer stood around her. “What happened to the cows?”
“They scattered when I charged over here.”
The tail end of the only cow in sight in this pasture disappeared back into the willows. No wonder Luke was well on his way to throwing a temper tantrum. “I’m sorry,” she said in chagrin. “Now you have to go find them again.”
“Forget the cows. Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Slowly, judiciously testing each move, she pulled herself into a sitting position.
Luke held out a hand to assist her. “You sure?”
JJ. carefully stood. Every muscle in her body screamed at her. She rubbed her bottom. “If I never ride another horse the rest of my life, I’ll die happy.”
“Do you mean to tell me you got off Fawn and were laying on the ground because of a few sore muscles?” He picked up her hat and crammed it back on her head.
From the tone of his voice, he would have preferred she’d at least have been knocked off the horse by a grizzly bear and run over by a herd of buffalo. “I did not get off,” J.J. said indignantly. “That stupid horse bucked me off.”
“Fawn threw you?” Luke repeated incredulously. “Impossible. She can’t work up that much energy.” Putting two fingers between his lips, he gave a sharp whistle. Fawn looked at him, then shuffled lethargically in their direction. Luke grabbed the mare’s reins and turned toward J.J. “Well?”
“You can ‘well?’ me till the cows come home, which judging by their disappearance may be sometime next summer, but I am not getting on that darned horse again.”
Luke raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t give me that arrogant look. I’ll walk first.”
Luke’s lips twitched. “I don’t think so.”
J.J. didn’t like his smile. She backed slowly away from him. He didn’t move, just watched her, a look of unrestrained amusement on his face. She was about to ask him what was so darned funny when she smacked into something big and solid. The low bellow in her ear sent J.J. flying across the pasture. She didn’t even argue when Luke tossed her into the saddle. She had entirely too much pride to comment on the fact his shoulders shook with laughter.
Durango had wandered up when Luke whistled for Fawn, and Luke swung into his saddle. Man and horse guided through the open gate the cow who’d ambushed JJ. “You and Fawn sit here in front of the gate so these cows—” he pointed to his pasture “—don’t get any fancy ideas. I’ll gather the others and haze ’em up this way. Move out of the way when you see them coming.” He crowded Fawn toward the gate with his horse, then grabbed J.J.’s saddle horn, leaned over and planted a hard kiss on her mouth. “And, O’Brien, if Fawn turns into a bucking bronc again, stay on. Next time I’ll send you after those damned cows.” He trotted toward the gully, swooping low to snatch his hat off the snow.
J.J. refused to be impressed. Not even when Luke reappeared shortly trailing four cows. He herded them into his own pasture and closed the gate.
On the other side of the pasture, the large ranch tractor circled a field, distributing hay. The cows saw and heard the tractor and began trotting toward the opposite fence. Luke moved smoothly around them and opened the next gate. The cattle flowed through, lumbering to the long string of greenish feed mounded on the snow. A hint of sage blended with the smell of the hay. Luke rode back to where J.J. and Fawn plodded across the field and led them toward a gate that bordered the road.
J.J. preferred never speaking to him again, but something he’d started to say earlier nagged her. “What did you think?” she asked. At his blank look, she elaborated. “You said when you saw me you thought, and then you stopped.”
Closing the gate behind them, Luke turned his horse in the direction of the ranch house. “About five years ago Zane was out riding, and his horse stepped in a prairie dog hole and somersaulted.” Luke painstakingly adjusted each finger of his leather gloves. “Zane was laying flat on the ground when I found him. When the horse went over, the saddle horn crushed Zane’s rib cage. Did all kinds of internal damage.”
His mechanical tone of voice prepared J.J. for what was coming.
“He died right after I found him.”
“I’m so sorry.” The words sounded sadly inadequate. Watching his uncle die and unable to do anything to help him must have been agonizing for Luke. The dry recitation of facts failed to hide Luke’s grief. He rode to her left and J.J. reached awkwardly over and gently touched his hand where it rested on his right thigh. He stiffened, and she jerked back her hand, gluing it with her other hand to the saddle horn.
“All Zane said to me was, ‘It wasn’t Charlie’s fault.’ Then he died. I think he made himself hang on until somebody found him so he could say those words.”
“Charlie?”
“Zane’s favorite horse, named after the painter, Charles M. Russell. Zane was a fan of Russell’s work.” After a minute Luke added, “Mom couldn’t bear to look at Charlie after that. She wanted me to shoot him. We had a big argument when I turned him out to pasture. Last summer, when he was twenty-two, I found him dead in a patch of wildflowers. Buried him so the scavengers couldn’t get him.” Luke didn’t look at JJ. “I figure he and Zane are together again, trailing cows somewhere.”
> Moved by the sentiment behind Luke’s last words, JJ. clung to the saddle horn and stared straight ahead, moisture blurring her vision. A hand pressed down on hers and then lifted so quickly she might have imagined it. Turning away from Luke, J.J. surreptitiously wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek.
The rumble of the tractor faded away behind them. A small earth-toned bird flew from the barbed-wire fence into a low bush. The sun moved west where clouds, building up over the Park Range, conspired to dim its brightness.
Durango nickered into the stark silence. Three crows standing in the middle of the road flapped into the air, cawing raucously. Durango snorted and shied, his ears flicking toward the large black birds. Luke sat loose-limbed in the saddle as the reddish gelding, his tail flying high, drummed a fretful tattoo on the snowy roadbed. To J.J.’s extreme relief, Fawn obeyed her frantic sawing on the reins and stopped well out of range of Durango’s skittish hooves. Durango humped his spine one last time, then looked back at Luke and shook his long head as if bragging of chasing off the crows.
Luke laughed. “You crazy cayuse. Had to shake the fidgets out of your legs, did you?”
His laughter eased the painful shadows from his eyes. His broad smile played havoc with J.J.’s insides. “You were both just showing off,” she said tartly, telling herself any unsettled feelings in her stomach were caused by envy of his riding skills. And sympathy for the way he’d discovered his dying uncle. Her lying on the ground must have instantly recalled the scene to Luke. “I’m sorry for frightening you. I kind of shouted at the cows and startled Fawn. She jumped and I...” J.J. shrugged.
“Smoothly dismounted,” Luke suggested in a deadpan voice.
“The dismount might have been smooth, but the landing sure wasn’t. My entire backside is going to be black and blue tomorrow.” Her twanging thigh muscles told her bruises weren’t going to be her only problem.
“What you need,” Luke said, “is a good hot soak.”