Cash opened his mouth. No words came out. He cleared his throat and asked carefully, "And afterward?"
"Luke felt obliged to get married. I refused."
"Why?"
It was Carla's turn to be shocked into silence. It passed quickly, driven out by the same unflinching determination that had kept her from picking up the phone and calling Luke.
"I'll tell you why, brother dear. I'll go trout fishing in hell before I marry a man who doesn't love me."
"Don't be ridiculous. Luke loves you. Hell, he's loved you for years."
Tears came suddenly to Carla's eyes. She tried to speak but was able only to shake her head slowly while she fought for self-control.
"Lust," she said finally, her throat so tight she could barely squeeze the word out. "Not the same, Cash. Not the same at all."
"I don't believe you," Cash said flatly.
He reached past her for the telephone. Both of her hands clutched his wrist in a contest of strength that she couldn't possibly win.
"Then believe this," she said, her voice shaking. "If you tell Luke I'm pregnant I'll get in my truck and drive and keep on driving until I'm sure neither one of you will ever find me!"
"But, honey, you're pregnant. Be reasonable."
"I am. I'm not a charity case. I don't need a mercy marriage."
Cash flinched.
Too late, Carla remembered her brother's brief, unhappy marriage to a girl pregnant with another man's child.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that as a slap at Linda. She did what she believed she had to do." Carla put her arms around Cash and hugged him. "And your taking me in after Mom and Dad died ruined any chance you and Linda had. It also taught me that a man's sense of honor and decency is no substitute for love in a marriage. If Luke loved me, he would have called by now. He hasn't. Now it's up to me to pick up the pieces of my life. It's not Luke's problem, Cash. It's mine."
Cash kissed Carla's forehead, hugged her in return and said softly, "Honey, I'm as sure that Luke loves you as I am that I love you."
"Don't," she whispered, her voice aching with suppressed emotion. "You'll just make me cry. I miss him so much. It's like dying to know that he – he doesn't – doesn't—"
The shudder that racked Carla's body was transmitted instantly to her brother. His arms tightened around her.
"Go ahead and cry, honey," Cash whispered, closing his eyes, putting his cheek against Carla's hair, holding her. "Cry for both of us. And for Luke. Cry for him most of all, because he lost the most."
For a long time Cash held his sister, stroking her hair slowly, letting her cry out all the years of dreams that hadn't come true. When she had finally calmed, he kissed her cheek and released her.
"I'm not sure what I'm going to do about this," Cash said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping away Carla's tears. "But I know what I'm not going to do. I'm not going to pick up the phone today and tell Luke you're pregnant. I interfered once with the two of you, and it blew up in everyone's face."
Cash put the handkerchief in Carla's hand and wrapped her fingers around it.
"But, honey, once you start showing, someone's sure to mention it to Luke. Then there will be blazing red hell to pay." Cash hesitated, then added softly, "If you don't tell him by Christmas, I'll have to do it for you."
What Cash didn't put into words was his belief and fervent prayer that Luke surely would have called Carla by then.
~ 17 ~
A cold wind howled down from MacKenzie Peak, a wind tipped with the promise of sleet or snow. A gust caught Ten halfway between the bunkhouse and the barn. He ducked his head, pulled up the collar of his shearling jacket and went in the side entrance to the barn. The room he headed for had once held harness for the Rocking M's wagon horses. Now the room held woodworking tools – and a man who wielded them the way a wizard wields incantations against vicious demons.
The door had been locked since the evening Carla McQueen had driven off the Rocking M. After Luke had spent a long day working on the ranch, he would spend the evening and too much of the night locked inside the room, where the scream of a power saw biting into wood filled the spaces between the cries of the winter wind.
Ten was the only man who dared to disturb Luke in his lair. Lately, even Ten was thinking the matter over three or four times before he raised his fist and rattled the door on its hinges, praying that a small bit of Christmas spirit had sunk into Luke's hard head.
"Telephone, Luke!"
"Take a message.
"I did."
"Well?"
"Cash wants to know if you've seen Carla."
The scream of the power saw ended abruptly. "What?"
"You heard me."
"What makes him th—"
"How the hell should I know?" interrupted Ten. "You have questions, go ask Cash yourself. I'm damn tired of standing around in a cold barn yelling at a man who's too blind to find his butt with both hands and a mirror the size of a full moon!"
Luke yanked opened the door and gave Ten a hard look. Ten returned it with interest.
"Give it to me again, slowly," Luke said.
"Lord, how you tempt a man," Ten muttered. "Listen up, boss. Cash McQueen is on the phone. Carla is missing. He seems to think she came here."
"On the day before Christmas?"
"Maybe she has some Christmas cookies for the hands."
Luke gave Ten a disbelieving look.
"Well, she brought us cookies a few years ago," Ten said blandly. "Maybe she decided to do it again. What other reason could she have for coming all the way out here?"
Luke stepped out of the room, slammed the door behind him, locked it, pocketed the key and stalked into the house. The kitchen phone was off the hook, waiting for him.
"Cash, what the hell is going on?"
"I hoped you could tell me. I had to overnight in New Mexico. When I got back, I found a note from Carla saying she had something to do at the Rocking M. So I called, but Ten says she isn't around."
"When did she leave?"
"She should have been at the ranch house hours ago," Cash said bluntly.
"Maybe she decided to go somewhere else."
"She would have called and left a message on my answering machine."
Luke sensed the presence of Ten behind him. He turned and shoved the phone into his ramrod's hand.
"Talk to Cash," Luke said curtly.
"Where are you going?"
"To check the south road for tread marks left by a baby pickup truck. If I'm not back in ten minutes, you'll know I found tracks and kept going."
"To where?"
"September Canyon."
*
Muddy water shot up and out from the big pickup's tires as Luke forded Picture Wash with unusual velocity. He told himself he was pushing so hard because he was worried about Carla being alone in the desolate canyon with a storm coming on. But he didn't believe the rational lie. He drove like hell on fire because he was afraid she would have come and gone before he got there.
What's the hurry, cowboy? he asked himself sardonically. Nothing has changed. Nothing can change. You can't have both Carla and the Rocking M. Beginning and end of story.
There was no answer but the power of Luke's hands holding the big truck to the rutted road at a speed that was just short of reckless. The turnoff into September Canyon was taken in a controlled skid that made the truck shudder.
Relief coursed through Luke when he saw Carla's tiny pickup parked near a clump of piñon. He stopped nearby, pulled on his jacket and began walking quickly toward the overhang. The rich golden light of late afternoon slanted deeply across the canyon, heightening every small crevice in the cliffs and every tiny disturbance of the soil, making the land look as though it had been freshly created.
There was no sign that Carla had been beneath the overhang since August. There were no fresh ashes in the fire ring, no new tracks near the seep's clean water, no sleeping bag stretched out and waiting for the night that
would soon descend.
I was right. She isn't planning to stick around.
The realization sent a cold razor of fear slicing through Luke. The feeling was irrational, yet it couldn't be denied.
I could so easily have missed her. Why didn't she tell me she was coming? Why did she drive all the way out to the Rocking M and not even say hello?
No sooner had the questions formed than their answers came, echoes of a summer and a passion that never should have been, Carla's voice calling endlessly to him, haunting even his dreams: Remember what it was like to be loved by me. Then come to me, Luke. I'll be waiting for you, loving you.
But he hadn't gone to her. He had gone instead to the old harness room. There he had transformed his yearning, his pain and his futile dreams into gleaming curves of wood, pieces of furniture to grace the family life he would never have.
Wind curled down through the canyon, wind cold with distance and winter, wind wailing with its passage over the empty land. The overhang took the wind, muffled it, smoothed it, transformed it into voices speaking at the edge of hearing and dreams, a man and a woman intertwined, suspended between fire and rain, their cries of fulfillment glittering in the darkness.
Abruptly Luke knew why Carla hadn't set up camp beneath the overhang. She could no more bear its seething not-quite-silence than he could.
It took only a few moments for Luke to find the tracks Carla had left when she headed up the canyon. Her footprints followed the trail markers she had left in August. All other signs of her previous visit had been washed away by rain. Luke walked quickly, fighting the impulse to run, to overtake the girl who had left nothing more of herself in September Canyon than a fragile line of tracks that wouldn't outlive the next winter storm.
Filled with an anxiety that he neither understood nor could control, Luke scrambled up the narrow tongue of rock and debris that looked out over the canyon. There was no one waiting at the top, no girl with blue-green eyes and a smile that set a man to dreaming of marrying one special woman, having a family with her, watching their children grow to meet the challenges of the beautiful, unflinching land.
"Carla?"
No answer came back but the haunted wind.
Luke looked around quickly for Carla's tracks but found none. Where the surface wasn't gravel it was solid rock. He glanced up the canyon, then down, then up again. No one was in sight. He scrambled down the far side of the promontory. There were no rocks piled to mark the way, nothing to indicate which direction Carla had taken. If she had left tracks, the rich sidelight of the descending sun would have made them stand out like flags.
"Damn it, Carla," he muttered, scanning the view impatiently, "you know better than to take off without leaving any markers to—"
The angry words stopped when Luke's breath came in fast and hard and stayed there. His head snapped around and he looked up canyon again. This time he saw nothing but rock, piñon, sunlight and shadow. Yet there had been something there before, a glimpse of right angles and rectangular shadows that were at odds with his expectations. Nature' s geometry was circular, curve after curve flowing through unimaginable time. Man's geometry was angular, line after line marching through carefully divided time. He had seen a hint of man, not canyon.
Carefully he turned his head again. There, just at the corner of his vision, Luke glimpsed right angles and rectangular shadows tucked away amid September Canyon's graceful curves. Only the unusual angle of the sunlight allowed him to see the cliff house, for it was screened by trees and nestled in one of September Canyon's many side canyons. A chill moved over Luke as he realized that he was looking at the ruins of a cliff house that had been old when Columbus set sail for India and found the New World instead.
And within those stone ruins a hidden fire burned, sending a thin veil of smoke toward the cloud-swept sky.
As Carla had before him, Luke walked toward the ruins. Even knowing they were there, and having the richly slanting light as an aid, he found it difficult to locate the ruins once he looked away. He stopped, took his bearings from the canyon itself and walked toward the ruins with the confidence of a man accustomed to finding his own way over a wild land. He didn't call out to Carla; wind and silence were the only voices suited to hidden canyon.
Luke found Carla at the very edge of the ruins, sitting in an ancient room that had no ceiling. Enough of the walls remained to give shelter from the keening wind. The small fire she had built burned like a tiny piece of the sun caught amid the twilight of the ruins. She was staring into the heart of fire, her right hand curled into a fist. Tears shone like silver rain on her cheeks, a slow welling of sadness that made Luke's own throat ache.
"There's a storm coming on," he said, his voice husky with emotions he couldn't name. "You shouldn't camp here. There's not enough shelter. Why don't you come back with me?"
Carla turned and looked at the man whose child was growing within her body, the man she loved.
The man who didn't want her love.
"No, thank you," she said politely. "I don't want to impose on you."
A coolness moved over Luke's skin that had nothing to do with the swirling wind.
"That's ridiculous," he said. "You know you're always welcome on the Rocking M."
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Lie. I'm not welcome on the Rocking M and we both know it. You were relieved to wake up and find me gone."
"Carla—"
Luke's throat closed and the silence stretched while Carla watched him with blue-green eyes that were darker than he remembered. Then her lips curved in a small smile that was sadder than any tears he had ever seen.
"Don't worry, Luke. I'm not going to throw myself at you again. I've finally grown up. I'm as tired of being pushed away by you as you are of having to push me."
She laughed suddenly. The soft, broken sound made Luke flinch, but she didn't see it. She had opened her right hand and was staring at the fragment of ancient pottery that rested on her palm. Luke endured the silence as long as he could, then asked the only question he would allow himself.
"Did you find that here?"
A brief shudder went over Carla, but that was her only acknowledgment that she was no longer alone. Just when Luke began to wonder if she would answer, she spoke in a flat, colorless voice.
"You gave this to me seven years ago. I brought it back to the place where it belongs. Full circle."
Luke felt as though the world had dropped away from beneath his feet. Always in the past he had known with unspeakable, absolute certainty that Carla would come back to the Rocking M, to him, bringing sunshine and laughter and peace with her. He had come to count on that, hoarding memories of her like a miser counting jewels, knowing that one day he would look up and she would be there again, watching him with a love she had never been able to hide.
The realization of what had happened sank into Luke like a blade of ice, slicing through him even as it froze him, teaching him that he had never known pain until that moment. Carla had come back, but not to him. She would leave again.
And she would never come back.
"I'm selling the ranch."
Shocked by Luke's words, Carla looked up, facing him again. The pain she saw in his golden eyes made her feel as though she were being torn apart.
"But – why?"
"You know why."
With a small, anguished sound, Carla turned back to the fire, knowing that there was no more hope. All her dreams, all her love, everything was destroyed.
"Cash shouldn't have called you," she said hoarsely. "He promised me until Christmas."
Carla's fingers clenched around the pottery shard. The pain of it reminded her of why she had come to September Canyon. She drew back her arm to hurl the ancient shard back into the fire.
"No!" Luke said.
He moved with shocking speed, closing his much bigger hand around her fist, forcing her to hold on to his gift. Slowly he knelt in front of her, bringing her right hand to his lips d
espite her struggles.
"Don't leave me, sunshine," Luke said, kissing Carla's slender fingers. "Stay with me. Love me."
The words pierced Carla's last defenses, teaching her how little she had understood of pain until that moment. She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak; she could only be torn apart by the knowledge that it had all been for nothing, all the pain, all the loneliness, all the years of yearning.
And now he was pressing his lips against her fingers, pleading with her to stay, to give him the love he had always pushed away in the past. Now, when Cash had told Luke she was pregnant.
Now, when love was impossible.
Duty. Decency. Honor. Obligation. The words were colder than the wind, more massive than September Canyon's stone ramparts. The words were crushing her. She couldn't live a lifetime with Luke, knowing every time that she wasn't loved. She couldn't even live another instant that way.
"Let me go, Luke," Carla said, her voice breaking. "I can't bear being your obligation. I can't bear knowing the only reason you came to me at all is that Cash told you I'm pregnant."
"Pregnant!"
The dark center of Luke's golden eyes dilated with a shock that was unmistakable. With quick motions he unbuttoned her jacket.
"Didn't he—" Carla's voice broke as Luke's big hands went from her throat to her hips, discovering every change four months of pregnancy had made in her body.
"My God," Luke said again and then again, his voice ragged.
Slowly his hands moved over her, touching her in wondering silence because he could not speak.
"Cash didn't tell you?" Carla whispered, sensing the answer yet unable to help the words. She had to know. She had to be certain.
Luke shook his head.
"Then why – why did you come here?" she asked.
He took a deep, shuddering breath and said simply, "I had to."
Carla watched Luke with uncertain eyes, afraid to think, to hope. "I don't understand."
With a gentleness that made Carla tremble, Luke brushed his lips over the shining trails her tears had made on her cheeks. It was the first time he had ever kissed her without being asked; the realization was as devastating to Carla as the tenderness of his caresses. Without thinking, she raised her hand to push him away, unable to bear being hurt again.
Fire and Rain Page 16