An oath reached them through the open door. Not crystal clear, but most definitely Jeff’s voice.
Mary gave a wry smile. “He also gets testier at the end of a session. Wait here a minute.”
She returned in a moment and led Kalli to the stairs. “Annie keeps Jeff in line. Gradually, I’ll be doing that. We’ll let them finish the session and give him time to rest, then we’ll see him up in his room. He’ll be more himself.”
Mary led Kalli to a bench outside, in a corner protected by a wing of the building.
“Don’t let him see you so worried about him, Kalli.”
“I’ll try not to. It’s just... Isn’t he driving himself too hard?”
“I’d think someone gave me a fake Baldwin Jeffries somewhere along the line if he didn’t drive himself.”
Kalli gave a small smile. “What if he tries to do too much? What if he gets worn down? He’s already vulnerable. Don’t you worry?”
“Of course I worry, but I know Jeff, and I know how much he needs this. It’s not just so he can do things—he knows he’s not going to be striding around the way he used to, we’ve talked about that—but he has to prove to himself that he hasn’t been licked. That he can fight back and come out more than fifty-fifty.”
Mary took Kalli’s hand between both of hers before she went on. “And because I love that man, what he needs is what counts for me. When you love someone, really love someone, what they want and need is more important than your own wants and needs. It’s more important even than your worries and fears.”
* * *
“...ANNIE SLAVEDRIVER SAYS trunk balance– Tell you she said I fastest from moving out of midline to standing without help?”
“No, you didn’t tell me that, Jeff.”
His words weren’t precise, he left some out and the weakness in the lower left portion of his face was apparent, but Jeff looked so much better after a half hour’s rest than he had in the therapy room, that Kalli felt great relief. And she positively basked in his enthusiasm.
Nothing could have healed her spirits better than a dose of Baldwin Jeffries.
“Told her—” he tapped his chest “—tough stock.”
“That’s true,” Mary said. “We were very lucky the stroke wasn’t worse.”
“Some here real bad shape,” Jeff said with a sympathetic shake of his head, as if he had no problems.
“The doctors say Jeff drifted in and out of a sort of light coma after the stroke. Once he shook that, they could see he’d come through better than they’d first thought.”
Mary exchanged a smile with her husband. From the weakness on the left side of his face, Jeff’s smile was slightly lopsided—reminiscent of Walker’s now.
Kalli pressed her knuckles to her suddenly tight chest.
“Wrong, Kalli?”
Jeff’s eyes certainly had regained their sharpness.
“No, nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”
“Probably heartburn,” Mary fussed. “You’ll have an ulcer if you’re not careful. All that stress you try to pretend you don’t have. Better to face it head-on than swallow it and let it eat up your insides. Is that New York office of yours pestering you? There never has been a time you’ve come out here for a rest and they haven’t called you every other day. Just keeping you riled up.”
“My office has called a few times,” she acknowledged. “But nothing I couldn’t handle from here.”
“Is it Walker? Is he giving you a hard time?” Mary demanded.
“No. Not…”
Not the way you mean. But being around him was giving her a hard time with herself. Since they’d watched that sunset, he’d been polite, cooperative and more distant than when she’d been in New York. Gulch and Roberta had given her odd looks that kept her tensed for one or both to demand an explanation, though neither had to this point.
She became aware of the silence, and the questioning looks from Mary and Jeff.
“He’s working really hard,” she said quickly, “doing everything he can for the rodeo. I couldn’t ask for more cooperation these past weeks.”
Which was the crux of the problem. Whatever fragile truce they’d built had cracked, but he not only carried out his regular duties, he continued interviews—blandly insisting she still accompany him—and he encouraged everyone to look to her as the rodeo’s financial head. While Walker’s attitude and diligence pleased her for the rodeo’s sake, they also forced her to acknowledge he had changed.
“Rodeo?” Jeff jerked out the word in demand.
Kalli flicked a look at Mary. A frown tugged at her eyebrows, but the older woman nodded.
“Ticket sales have improved,” Kalli said. “Not to where they were before, but better than when people were worried it would fall apart without you two in charge.”
She tried to smile. Jeff watched her intently.
“Go ahead, Kalli, what’s the rest?” Mary asked, calm and even.
“If we stay at this pace, we’ll fall a little short of last year. That wouldn’t be bad, except...” She met Jeff’s look, consciously trying to bleed the concern out of her eyes and voice. “I found the books, Jeff. I know you loaned money from the rodeo accounts to help people out.”
“Do it again,” he said doggedly.
“I know you would. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t have—except from a business standpoint. There’s no money coming in from those loans. In fact, I can’t find any record of a repayment schedule for any of them?”
She let it trail off as a question. Jeff simply looked at her, and she had her answer. There was no schedule, just a handshake between friends.
She sighed again. “There are virtually no reserves in the rodeo accounts to tide it over until next season. You know as well as I do, you need cash to get started the following season. I’m sure you could have produced enough revenue running the rodeo yourself to take care of that. But I’m not sure we can. Especially not with that dip in ticket sales when Walker and I first came. And what if we can’t get them back to their previous level?”
“We’ll take out a loan.”
Kalli had been so intent on Jeff’s reaction that Mary’s pronouncement caught her off guard. “I’m not sure, with the management of the rodeo in doubt, that a bank would give the rodeo a loan.”
“We’ll get a personal loan. Or mortgage the ranch.”
Kalli vowed right then that she would not permit these two people to take on that kind of debt at an age when they should be contemplating easy-living retirement. Even if she had to sacrifice the Park Rodeo.
But she was too wise to voice that resolve. “Before we borrow that trouble—or any money—let’s see where we are at the end of the season.”
Mary nodded in approval. Jeff considered her a moment longer, then spoke slowly, spacing his words with care.
“You and Walker will take care of it.”
“Yes, we’ll take care of it,” Kalli agreed. She felt compelled to say it again, more clearly, with greater emphasis. “Walker and I will take care of it.”
* * *
“AND WHAT ABOUT groups that maintain that rodeos are cruel to animals?”
Kalli went ramrod stiff, knowing how seriously Walker took his responsibility to care for his animals, and what he thought of those who didn’t.
And this TV taping had been going so well... The young woman interviewer had been enthusiastic, insisting she and her crew come to Park to tape on-site. The cameraman and reporter had followed Walker around for most of the night’s rodeo. Now they’d been sitting nearly half an hour in the cleared stands, with lights glaring on Walker and the woman.
The reporter made it clear only a tiny fraction of this tape might ever see the light of day, but she’d also mentioned the possibility of a feature on her network’s all-night news show. Seeing the ambition and determination in the woman’s eyes, Kalli had felt hopeful.
Until now.
“I mean, with the straps used to make them buck—”
“
You watch the animals and you’ll know different. They buck because a man’s on their back and they’ve been bred to it. If it was only the strap, why would they stop bucking when the man was gone but the strap was still there?”
“But these groups do maintain that rodeos constitute cruelty—”
“Baldwin Jeffries has never been cruel to an animal in his life and never tolerated anybody who was, and that’s the way he taught me.”
“But you would have to admit that not all rodeos are operated on the same high level as yours.”
“As the Jeffrieses’,” he corrected.
“As the Jeffrieses’,” she agreed.
He gave the interviewer a long, serious look. “Guess every kind of operation could say that. Folks maintain some TV news shows aren’t on the up-and-up all the time.”
Kalli figured that would never make the final edit.
“I understand you’ve had your share of injuries.” The woman’s voice gave no indication she’d hit a brick wall.
“I haven’t bought any spare teeth yet,” he answered mildly.
“Were you prepared to when you got into rodeoing?”
“‘Bout the same as a hockey player, I figure.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You ever hear of Jim Shoulders?”
“Uh, no.’’
“Well, he’s one of the best rodeo hands ever and he had more than his share of injuries—broken bones, a spare part to fix one hip. But he used to say as long as he didn’t set off airport security scanners, he was fine.”
The interviewer had been listening intently, but the bland finish drew a genuine laugh from her, as well as from the cameraman and another technician.
“What makes it worthwhile?”
His smile got a little sly, letting the camera in on the humor before be spoke. “I gotta quote another of the great ones. Casey Tibbs said he kept rodeoing because he was winning all the money he could spend.”
Kalli didn’t realize she’d made a sound until Walker turned toward her, slitting his eyes against the lights.
‘‘What is it, Kalli?’’
At some level, she was aware that a man with a clipboard on the other side of the cameraman had started forward, perhaps to cut the tape, but the interviewer gestured to keep it going.
“What is it?” he repeated.
“Don’t pass it off,” Kalli blurted out, not sure why this was so important. “Answer it. Why do you do it?”
For long, silent seconds, she thought he might not answer.
Then she knew he would.
He never looked away from her as he spoke slowly. “For eight seconds, you’re on top of a force of nature. Riding it. Not trying to master it, but just trying to go with it. Because if you’re not in sync, it’s like slamming up against a truck. But when you are in sync... Lord, when you’re in sync, for those eight seconds, you share the power. You’re not just on top of that force of nature, you’re part of it.”
Silence ticked by while Kalli looked at Walker and he looked back, though she doubted he could make her out beyond the lights.
“Aren’t you frightened?” the interviewer asked.
“Of the bull? Of getting hurt? No. That’d be like being afraid of life. Only thing I was ever afraid of was loneliness.”
Only then did he look away from Kalli, to focus on the interview. She barely heard the rest of it.
Chapter Six
* * *
“YOU LOOK LIKE you’ve been rode hard and put up wet, Kalli.”
She mentally cringed at Gulch’s words. She’d been only half-conscious of turning away when the office door opened so she’d be out of the direct line of sight. But she was fully aware of it now that the ploy had failed. She looked up from checking entries and smiled wanly.
“I’m okay.”
Gulch looked doubtful. Worse, he looked stubborn. And worst of all, he wasn’t the only person looking that way.
Roberta stood right next to him with an identical expression and Walker was a couple of feet behind them, making it three for three.
“Don’t look okay,” disputed Gulch. “Does she, Roberta?”
“I’ve been tellin’ her since she dragged in here first thing that there’s no cause for her to stick around, specially not with her having a face that would scare a ghost.”
Walker stepped around Roberta and sent Kalli a piercing look. But at least he didn’t say anything.
“Thanks, Roberta.” Kalli’s glare had no apparent impact on the other woman.
“If you’re thanking me for having a bit of sense, I’ll say you’re welcome. And then repeat that you should go home.”
“I’m not going home. I’m fine,” she said sharply, and rose, intending to go around the counter to replace the entry clipboard. And to escape this scrutiny in triplicate.
Moving so quickly was a mistake. She could feel it in the clamp of discomfort at the small of her back and the squeezing in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t like this most months, but it was far from the first time she’d felt like this—or worse. When she woke up this morning, she’d immediately known both the symptoms and the cure—go to bed with a heating pad for a day. Or tough it out. She’d made her usual choice. Tough it out.
But she couldn’t help leaning on the desk as she lowered herself to the chair.
Walker was standing beside her before she knew he’d moved. He placed one rough palm on her sure-to-be clammy forehead and wrapped the other hand around her wrist. She backed away from both touches but knew it was too late. She heard his expelled huff of exasperation.
Then she felt the earth give way as he scooped her up in his arms, one arm across her back, the other under her knees, and headed out.
“Walker, don’t be ridiculous. This is silly. Put me down.”
He ignored her. “Get the door, Roberta.”
“You bet, Walker.”
She sounded mighty pleased to follow the curt order, as did Gulch, when he contributed, “I’ll get the truck door.”
“Good. And give those folks a call and tell ’em we won’t be by this afternoon. Reschedule for tomorrow.”
Already out the door, Gulch called back, “Sure thing.”
Kalli wanted to demand to know what folks he and Gulch had planned to meet and what would be rescheduled, but she considered being carried like a baby a very weak position for making demands. First things first. “Walker. Put me down. Now.”
The words were right, but the voice lacked punch.
He kept going, out the door, down the two steps, across a few yards of dirt, to where Gulch held the red pickup’s door wide open.
“Walker—”
He deposited her on the worn upholstery of the passenger seat and met her glare. His face was so close, she could see the dark centers of his eyes, could watch them expand, could absorb the warmth of his breath across her lips, could feel it sucking the oxygen out of her system, leaving her suspended, unmoving.
“Don’t push me, Kalli.”
He stared an instant longer, then backed away, leaving room for Coat, who jumped up with surprising nimbleness to the spot in the middle of the seat. Kalli’s foot nudged at a brick wrapped with string, a contraption Walker used to need for wrist-strengthening exercises.
“Hook your seat belt.” He stood and waited until she’d complied, then handed in her purse, brought by Roberta.
Walker closed the door with controlled emphasis that told her he’d wanted to slam it. Ten years ago, he would have. But that thought was lost in others, more urgent, as she watched him circle the front of the pickup. Only by an act of will did she prevent herself from continuing to stare at him as he slid into the driver’s seat, fastened his seat belt, started the engine and headed out of the dusty rodeo grounds. He looked so damned good.
Coat sat down between them with a gusty sigh of contentment.
Don’t push me, Kalli, he’d said. There had been another phrase tagging along with those words, unvoiced, but clear. Or I’ll— Or he’d what? That’s what sh
e wanted to know.
What had he thought as he’d bent over her so close, his mouth not even inches from hers, his arms still partially wrapped around her?
What would have happened if she had pushed? Would he have kissed her? Would he have slid his tongue in her mouth the way he’d taught her when he’d been the first to kiss her that way, the way he had at Lodge’s and in the mountains watching the sunset? Would she have experienced the blessed weight of his body pressing against hers, felt the hot evidence that he desired her, as she had so often in that other time, that lifetime ago?
As she’d been dreaming of again?
Or would he have pulled away? Would he have said words that would rip apart the fragile barrier she’d erected between her scars and the present?
Swallowing, she closed her burning eyes, turning her face from Walker and resting her cheek against the top of the worn seat back.
She didn’t realize she’d dozed until she woke. And she didn’t wake until the pickup stopped.
A leftover skill from those days on the rodeo circuit, this ability to sleep no matter how rough the road, followed by instant alertness upon arrival at the next stop. Strange that it lingered after all these years.
“Where are we?”
That, too, was a common refrain from their past. But this time, her question wasn’t the idle curiosity of a woman so in love it didn’t really matter where they were as long as they were together.
She rolled down the dust-dimmed window.
Instead of the well-established sprawl of the Jeffrieses’ ranch she’d expected, she looked out at the wooden skeleton of a corral under construction, a new barn and a log house about half its size, all set in a semicircle of partially tamed landscape, the whole thing apparently cut out of the side of a mountain by nature’s sharp hand. The mountain continued rising behind the buildings, not close enough to crowd them, yet giving a sense of solid protection.
Some distance in front of the buildings and the open space where the truck sat, the earth fell away to reveal a valley’s spreading tapestry—the hues of green where irrigation reached, the dusty golds and browns where it didn’t, the dots of cattle, the silvered glimmer of cottonwoods tracing streams or encircling the rarer blues or reds or whites of a house or barn. It stretched to the horizon, where she could imagine she saw the shadowed steps of the Big Horn Mountains some hundred miles away.
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