With Open Arms

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With Open Arms Page 14

by Cindy Nord


  “First thing outta your mouth, as I recall,” he said with a laugh.

  “Now let’s see if I remember this correctly…” Her hand rose and she counted her fingers. “There’s sugar. And vanilla. And an egg. Oh, and canned milk. Is that right?” Her eyes twinkled when Gus nodded. “I knew it. And it tasted so good I ate five bowls right then and there.” She glanced at Jackson, a rosy blush coloring her cheeks. The smile pushed higher across her face. “We get snow here on the Santa Catalinas sometime, but I haven’t tasted snow ice cream since then.”

  Jackson stared at her transformation from a full-grown sullen shrew to a sweeter-than-sugar little girl, his mouth agape. Good God, why do you hide such incredible charm? He scrambled to find his voice, not wanting the hypnotic glimmer to fade from her eyes just yet. “Well, how about we make some?” His gaze shot to the wrangler shuffling back to the wagon. “What do you say, Gus? If it snows in the mountains, should we go make our Callie-girl here some of that homemade ice cream this winter?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Gus replied, his voice fading off as he disappeared into the darkness on the opposite side of the wagon.

  Jackson’s gaze drifted back to Callie and he smiled. “I’ve never known a place where weather could be so different,” he continued, hoping to keep the amiable mood alive. “I mean, I can be standing in a pool of sweat and yet lift my eyes to see snowcapped peaks in the distance.”

  Callie stared into the fire, a soft, subtle grin lingering near the edge of her mouth. “My mother said we wouldn’t be staying here long, you know. But the moment we arrived I knew we would.”

  Jackson stretched out his legs and stacked his boots. A twig snapped in the fire, sending up sparks to draw his gaze. Smoke wafted in thin, ghostly tendrils around the legs of the tripod and draped the best part of camp life around him. “Reece said you’re all from St. Louis.”

  She nodded. “I was just a little one when we left. Papa had a shipping business along the Mississippi, but all I remember about those times were the dang mosquitoes.” She flashed him a grin and the simple display drove a mesmerizing tingle straight down Jackson’s spine.

  He chuckled. “Around here, Gus told me to watch out for diamondbacks and scorpions.”

  “And maybe gila monsters and black widow spiders the size of boulders,” she added. The languid tones of her soft laughter bounced between them. “They won’t hurt you though if you don’t provoke ’em. And don’t forget to sleep with your boots on.” Her voice dropped lower, weaving around the buttery scent of cooked apples. “Tell me what she’s like?”

  Jackson’s brow lifted. “Who?”

  “My brother’s wife. Emaline. You’ve met her, is she nice?”

  Jackson recalled the raven-haired beauty who’d captured his friend’s heart. “Yes. She’s very nice and has a caring nature about her. I believe you’d like her.” He took another swig of coffee, choosing his words carefully. “We commandeered her plantation for winter encampment. Reece tried not to fall in love, but…his heart didn’t listen.” Jackson’s smile deepened as he recalled the many fights between his friend and the spirited widow.

  “I’m glad,” Callie whispered. “He deserves happiness. He was so sad when he rode east.”

  The evening breeze settled around her, bringing the murmurs of vaqueros and the soft, reedy notes of a harmonica to her ears.

  A fine finish to a long day, yet she wasn’t nearly as tired as she thought she’d be. Maybe it was the excitement of finding they hadn’t lost a single horse yet.

  Or maybe it was something more. She locked her gaze on Jackson’s profile. The amber light lessened the lines that bracketed his mouth. “How old are you, anyway?”

  His dark eyes narrowed as he stared into the flames. “Last count…thirty-four.” He took a sip from his cup and swallowed. “You?”

  “Twenty-five. An old maid.”

  “Nah,” he countered, his gaze meeting hers. Firelight flickered golden across his handsome face. “You don’t look a day over nineteen.”

  Callie released a throaty, embarrassed laugh. She didn’t even like this man, which made their agreeable little interlude now so enchanting. Her usual animosity toward him had somehow wandered off into the darkness and forgot to return.

  Callie tipped back, peering into the moonless sky. A million stars twinkled overhead, so pretty and bright and awe-inspiring she wanted to pluck one from the ebony night and hand it to him as her way of saying thanks for the flattering remark. “We’ve reached a milestone this evening,” she said as the sparkling trail of a falling star caught her eye.

  “How so?”

  The drifting redolence of cinnamon swirled around her as his voice rolled warm into her ears. “Well…” She dropped her chin and looked at him again. “We’ve somehow managed to sit here together and have our first civil conversation.” Her right foot rotated in a small circle working out the tightness from hours spent inside a stirrup.

  The spur on her boot heel glinted back at Jackson.

  “Yep. Kinda nice, isn’t it?” The corner of his mouth tipped upward. “And it’s only taken three months, twenty-five days…” He dipped his hand into a vest pocket and pulled out his watch, then glanced at it. “Nine hours and fifteen minutes to get here. Amazing.” He palmed the watch and sent her a quick wink. “Maybe you realize I’m not so bad after all, pahhdner.”

  “Maybe you are…then again, maybe you’re not.” An unsettling warmth shimmered through her more luminous than the embers beneath the baking cobbler. She climbed to her feet, and without another word headed into the darkness, her spurs chinking hard against the ground to hide her soft humming.

  Morning wove lavender wisps through the lingering ribbons of night as the Dos Caballos entourage pushed on toward Tucson. Callie turned in her saddle, searching for Jackson through the dim light. His silhouette at the back of the herd, even from this distance, caused her breath to catch. Their conversation last night still simmered warm inside her.

  Just go tell him.

  Before she could change her mind again, Callie nudged Diego toward the edge of the herd, nodding as she passed several vaqueros. Guiding her gelding around them, she headed to the rear of the wide column. A few minutes later, Callie pulled up alongside Jackson. The faded blue bandana still covered the lower half of his face to keep out the choking dust.

  “Howdy,” he said, his words muffled beneath the filthy cotton. “Nice surprise.”

  She slipped her hand across an extra canteen draped around her saddle horn. Earlier, she’d filled the container with fresh water from the barrel strapped to the side of the wagon.

  “Here,” she said, shoving the wool-covered bull’s eye toward Jackson. “Got you some fresh water. It’s a hell of a lot tastier than that brackish stuff you’ve been chuggin’ down.”

  His eyes widened as he accepted her gift. A second later, he yanked down the bandana.

  “Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.” He pulled the cork, then tipped the canteen until the pewter spout met his lips. Closing his eyes, Jackson gulped, his throat muscles working to down the revitalizing liquid. Several droplets escaped the sides of his mouth and fell to darken the front of his shirt.

  She couldn’t ignore the well-defined contours of his chest, apparent even beneath the grubby layer of chambray.

  He cleared his throat, and their gazes reconnected. A broad smile brightened his face as he jammed the canteen’s cork into place. “Mighty refreshing,” he said, dragging a sleeve across his chin. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

  Callie shifted her attention to the rump of the closest mare. If she had to have a partner, she supposed she could’ve done worse. “Glad you liked it…” She paused, searching for her next words. “Um…after our chat last night…” She took a deep breath, shoving all thoughts of his well-muscled form from her mind. “Well…it’s like this, Jackson. I’m thinkin’ maybe
you’re not so bad after all.”

  There…I’ve said it. The words weren’t as elegant as she’d practiced, but at least she’d gotten her point across. Callie flipped the ends of the reins against her hand, trying to ignore the growing frenzy in her pulse.

  “That’s high praise,” he said, draping the canteen strap around his saddle horn. “How about you and I make a pact to chat more often then? What do you say?”

  “I suppose we could manage that.” The staccato echoes of her drumming heartbeat flooded her ears.

  “And for the record,” he added, “you’re starting to spoil me, so I’m liking this side of you too.”

  Callie’s gaze swept to his face. Despite her best efforts to contain a giggle, the damn thing spilled out onto the dusty wind. “Exactly which side of me are you referrin’ to? The one who doesn’t want you to die of thirst during your first trail drive?”

  He cast her a sidelong glance and grinned, which deepened the soft squint lines around his eyes. “Yeah, that one.”

  Sunlight slipped over the canyon’s rim and enfolded Callie inside a warm embrace. By noon, the unforgiving ball of fire would scorch them all with hellish heat. But for now, the indulgent rays proved refreshing. Truth be told, she found this side of Jackson refreshing, too.

  “I’ll have you know,” she said with a chuckle, “I don’t share my spare canteen with just anybody.”

  “Well then, the water’s even sweeter…knowing you don’t mind my mouth touching where yours usually does.” Jackson winked, then flicked a glance to her lips.

  The warmth creeping across her cheeks carried all the burn of a bonfire. Where had the logical side of her brain gone? No doubt smothered under his damnable charms. Her gaze landed once more on the chestnut mare’s rump while her mind made a different journey, returning to the Eschevons’ supply closet and the pressure of Jackson’s mouth on hers. Whiskey caramelized his breath. Her traitorous body so easily responded to his raw masculinity…frightening, yet mesmerizing. She nearly groaned aloud.

  Say something, you idiot. Anything.

  Callie pulled her hat brim lower to shade her eyes from the rising sun. “So, what do you really think about our southwestern landscape?” What the hell? The landscape was the only subject she could conjure? She stifled the urge to roll her eyes at her own rattled foolishness.

  “It’s a far cry from the bustle of Philadelphia and its sultry summers, that’s for sure.”

  “Gus said we live in one of the hottest deserts on earth.” She pointed to a large stand of saguaro cactus jutting from the side of the rocky ravine. “And those only grow here, by the way.” She cleared her throat, straightening her shoulders. The words, now allowed to flow, tumbled out in a rush. “And our earliest settlers were Spanish. Father Miguel teaches the children at the orphanage how the Catholic Jesuits established missions here in the 1500s. The friendlier tribes, like the old Hohokam and Pimas, welcomed them.”

  Jackson’s smile widened. “I enjoy learning about the history of our place.”

  Our place? More than just the sun’s warmth spread through Callie. The truth of his powerful statement wrapped around her. “Me too,” she said. “History was my favorite subject in school. Especially the history of the land and the wildlife.” The swirling in her belly grew. No one had managed to fluster her the way this man did, and yet Callie found she enjoyed their banter. Nervous laughter slipped from her lips as she attempted to quell the perplexing unquiet inside. “The poppies and desert lupines bloomed before you arrived. I’m sorry you missed them. They were beautiful.”

  “I’ll look forward to seeing them next spring. But since I’ve no idea what lupines look like, you’ll have to point ’em out.” He sent her another damnably charming grin.

  “Sure,” she said, laughing. Apprehension’s knot loosened, the ends slipping away on the warm tendrils of wind. “Lupines are easy to spot, though. They’re sort of pinkish-purple and grow on a vertical spike nearly a foot tall.” A wisp of hair whipped across her face, and Callie scraped the roguish curl behind her ear. “The O’odham Indian name for lupines means sun-hand, ’cause their leaves move to face the sun’s path, then fold up at night. In years when the rainfall is generous, they’ll carpet the desert as far as the eye can see, but this season’s been drier than most. We’re due for a real gully-washer soon; we get one every couple years.”

  Jackson angled a thumb over his shoulder toward the copse of saguaros. “Dry or not, I like it here, even though she’s chock full of barbs that jab straight to the bone.” He dropped his hand to his reins, and his saddle creaked as he redistributed his weight. Another comfortable laugh followed. “Yes, ma’am, I’m quickly learning how to give her a wide berth.”

  Callie glanced at him. Again he sent her a wink, the softness reflected in his eyes kicking her already thumping pulse higher. As she struggled to find her next words, a tumbleweed captured by the ever-present breeze bounced across the clearing and hit the hip of the mare directly in front of her.

  The animal snorted and sidestepped, bumping into a nearby Appaloosa. Like a building tempest, other horses snorted and stomped, their agitations contagious. Two more mares threw back their heads, their dark manes whipping in the wind. Squealing and kicking at their closest neighbors, the horses clustered tighter.

  A shiver spiked through Callie. Her eyes went wide as a half-dozen horses broke from the herd and thundered past Jackson. Immediately, he turned Salvaje, spurring the beast into a chase after the runaways. His solid body leaned forward. His strong legs tightened, gripping hard against the stallion’s side. And this oh-so-impressive partner ripping through the cyclone of dust knew exactly what to do.

  A split-second later, common sense yanked her focus back to the danger.

  “Estampida,” she yelled toward the vaqueros before yanking Diego’s head around and gigging him with her spurs. The little sorrel leapt to block the path of the stampeding mares before their panic could encompass the entire herd. If she and Jackson could turn the leaders around, the following horses would naturally bond together.

  “Over there,” Jackson shouted, pointing toward a break in the dust. Nodding, Callie leaned low in her saddle and angled Diego through the roiling cloud.

  “Behind you,” she shrieked in return, darting to cut off three of the runaways.

  “On it,” he hollered, maneuvering Salvaje into position to block the other mares.

  Excitement thundered up Callie’s spine. Drifting dust, whipped into a churning, chalky veil by the frenzied rush of the horses, smothered her and nearly stole her breath. Still she pushed on, following Jackson’s lead.

  “Turn the Appaloosa now,” he roared.

  And she obeyed, a broad smile pulling across her face. She edged Diego in closer, and then closer still, until her mount brushed against the spooked animal. The heat of the mare’s damp hide penetrated her denim-covered leg.

  Callie chanced a quick glance sideways. Jackson leaned low over Salvaje, his broad-shouldered form formidable atop the black stallion. He angled his horse in closer too, gaining control of the lead mare. “I think it’s working,” she yelled. Had he even heard her? Her parched throat, coated with powdery dust, muffled her words.

  His laughter rang above the chaos. “You’re doing great, Cal.”

  “You too!” Tingling pride flooded through her. He really did know what to do in a crisis. Waving her arm, she helped Jackson move the beasts into an even tighter circle. And finally, the panic which had earlier driven the horses evaporated under her partner’s calming influence.

  The mares eased back into the main column.

  Callie guided Diego in beside Salvaje, reining the gelding into a slow gait. Euphoria flushed through her and she drew in a lungful of air. She truly liked working with this man. “Now that was fun,” she said, laughing as the sweetness of accomplishment enveloped her.

  Jackson’s voic
e was raspy with dust. “More so because we worked together.”

  A peculiar awareness rumbled through Callie. She stared at the wide set of his shoulders, his chest rising and falling in patchy breaths. Even coated in trail dust, he looked good. Damn good. The heat suffusing her face spread farther. He was so handsome. And happy.

  And right.

  As swiftly as the truth arrived, Callie shoved it from her mind. What the hell was she thinking? He was just a man, like any other…wasn’t he?

  Her shaky breath eased out. “Well, at least we averted disaster.”

  “That we did, partner,” he said. “That we did.”

  She shuddered and glanced forward, trying to pinpoint the bliss now messing up her well-ordered life. Yet, the harder she searched, the more fearful she became of the revelation. Her chest compressed. Along with her lips. Dust sat as acrid as lye on her tongue.

  “Well…” She paused, struggling to regain control. She sure as hell didn’t have time to dwell on such tripe. “Guess I better get back up front.” Her gaze flicked to Jackson once more. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for being here.”

  She spurred Diego into a canter away from Jackson, but his deep words penetrated her ears, tangling with the twisted mass that had become her heartstrings.

  “I’ll always be here for you, hellion. Come back anytime you’d like.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  They hadn’t lost one horse. Not one. Which was something Callie had never been able to accomplish in all the years she’d been partnerless. Two hundred and fifty-nine animals thundered past her into the corrals at Camp Lowell. Visible through the dust across the clearing, Colonel Talmadge shook hands with Jackson.

 

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