Cowboys Don't Cry

by Anne McAllister

  "Quick recovery," Tanner said as he came up beside him.

  Ev looked faintly sheepish. "Reckon it was somethin' I ate."

  "Probably," Tanner said dryly. "Looks like Maggie found you a replacement."

  "Sure was nice of him to come all the way up to help out. That's a long drive."

  Which was something of an understatement, Tanner thought. His gaze scanned the tables and rugs until he found Merritt. He was, naturally, sitting with Maggie and Andy on a rug near the old shed. They were laughing. Maggie had her head tipped back and Tanner's eyes lingered on the graceful line of her throat. He felt the awareness beginning to pool within him. He shut his eyes, turning away, then grabbed a plate and began to load it with chicken and ribs.

  In the old days someone would have had a fiddle and someone else would have brought a guitar, and after the food had been eaten and the talking had slowed, someone would have begun to play, to tempt tired, wornout cowboys to look again at the women in their lives, to tease them into maybe just one dance.

  Tonight someone brought out a boom box, someone else turned up the volume and another generation of cowboys started looking around. Some were eager, some were shy. But before long, four couples were dancing in the dirt clearing between the house and the barn. Tanner leaned back against a cottonwood and watched.

  One of them was Bates, his head bent close to Amy Lesser's, his arms holding her tight against his angular body. Amy didn't seem to mind. Tanner watched as Andy sidled up to Mary Jean, Bates's sister. She was no proof against Andy's eager grin.

  Tanner's gaze slipped toward Maggie. She and Merritt were sitting close together on the blanket, but whether they were actually touching or not, Tanner couldn't tell. His gaze met Maggie's for an instant. Then he looked away.

  A moment later a shadow fell across him and he looked up to see her standing there. "We did it," she said. She was smiling.

  He knew what she meant. They'd completed the roundup; things had gone well. They should be pleased. He nodded. "Yep."

  "Come celebrate with me."

  He looked up at her.

  She was holding out her hand. "Dance with me."

  He swallowed, let his gaze drop slowly, considered the invitation, the desperation with which he wanted to accept it, the probable outcome if he did. He raised his eyes again and met hers and shook his head slowly. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

  Maggie's smile faded. Her hand fell. "Whatever you say, Robert," she said after a moment, her voice absolutely toneless. She turned on her heel and walked away.

  Tanner looked down at the ground where he sat, plucked at a weed, yanked it out by the roots. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. "Damn it to hell."

  ♥ Scanned by Coral ♥

  Six

  He had to drive more than an hour, clear to Casper, before he found what he was looking for.

  When he'd left the barbecue, fuming, he hadn't even known what he wanted except to leave, to put as much space as possible between himself and Maggie MacLeod.

  Maggie had made the mistake of asking where he was going.

  "Leaving," he'd growled as he'd stalked past her. "Or don't you think I've worked hard enough today?"

  "Of course you have," she said a little uncertainly, her hand still resting on John Merritt's shoulder.

  "Then I'm taking a little well-deserved time off. And that's all you need to know." He didn't care that Maggie, John, Andy, Ev and half of the inhabitants east of the Big Horns stared after him in astonishment.

  He took off in a spray of gravel, driving fast and furious, not realizing until he hit the outskirts of Casper exactly what it was he was looking for: an escape—a little nightlife, a little joy, a big opportunity to meet a willing member of the fairer sex.

  Another night Tanner might have had enough maturity to walk away from a wet-T-shirt contest.

  Tonight it seemed like a good place to start.

  The Wildcatter was, as its name indicated, as often frequented by oil-company men as by homegrown Wyoming cowboys. The music was loud, the enthusiasm louder and it was late enough that the highlight of the evening, the wet-T-shirt contest, had begun by the time Tanner got there.

  The first contestant was already up on the makeshift platform at the end of the room when the bartender shoved a beer in Tanner's direction. He took a long swallow, then leaned back against the bar to watch.

  There were half-a-dozen contestants. All of them better endowed than Maggie MacLeod. He studied them closely—the two blondes, the redhead, the three brunettes—and wondered what it would be like to dance with them, kiss them, run his hands over them.

  The frustration that had been growing for weeks—no, months—rampaged in him. He watched as the women came forward in response to the whistles and hand claps. He studied their assets as the official "wetter" used a spray bottle to reveal them. He tried to imagine taking any one of them to a motel and doing what Maggie and John Merritt were probably doing at this very moment.

  His jaw clamped shut.

  Suddenly his line of vision was obscured. A leggy blonde brushed up against his arm. "Hi, honey." She smiled at him, her voice sultry, attractive and definitely inviting.

  "Evenin'." He glanced at her. She didn't have the obvious attributes of the contestants on the platform at the end of the room, but even she probably had more to show off than Maggie had.

  "Buy me a beer, cowboy?" she suggested.

  He signaled to the bartender. The blonde edged closer to him. "I'm Carrie. Who're you?"

  "Tanner." He finished his beer. The bartender poured him another. Carrie rubbed her cheek against the denim of his jacket. He remembered how he flinched away from the desire that shot through him every time Maggie touched him. He tried to find that desire here. He tried to imagine taking Carrie to a motel, easing off her skintight pink shirt and the rest of her clothes, laying her down and making love to her.

  He'd never had any trouble imagining doing that to Maggie—even when he didn't want to.

  He felt more than disinterest now. He gulped his beer and looked desperately back at the girls on the platform, trying to muster up interest in one of them. From the stamping and shouting and whistling going on around him, it was pretty clear that the other men weren't having any trouble relating to their considerable charms.

  Carrie pouted. "They may have more than me," she said when she noticed where his gaze had focused, "but boobs aren't everything, are they, sugar?" She gave Tanner a coy smile and brushed against him again.

  He cleared his throat and shifted his weight. "Er, no. I...reckon not."

  She reached for his hand, toying with his fingers. "Why don't you let me show you what else I've got."

  He couldn't.

  God help him, even faced with an outright invitation, he couldn't say yes.

  Damned if he knew why.

  His hormones thought he'd lost his senses. His body clamored at his betrayal. The frustrating pressure in his loins told him he'd lost his mind. But for all that certain parts of him frantically craved the release he was sure this woman could provide, he couldn't take her arm and walk out with her. He couldn't contemplate going to a motel room with her. He couldn't think about having sex with her.

  Because he couldn't stop thinking about Maggie.

  He tipped his head back and drained his glass, then looked at Carrie and shook his head. "Can't," he said. "Thanks, but no."

  Carrie looked at him, taken aback. "No?"

  Tanner gave a rueful shrug. "Not tonight," he said. "I...gotta get going." Shoving some bills toward the bartender, he gave Carrie a quick nod and strode out of the bar without looking back.

  The spring night had cooled considerably and served as a temporary balm to his overheated body, but it did nothing for the frustration that had been tormenting him for weeks.

  There was only one thing that would really ease it.

  One woman.

  And he hadn't a snowball's chance in hell of making love with Maggie MacLeo
d and walking away. It was more than his life was worth to even think about it.

  He flung himself into the truck, flicked on the engine and jammed it into gear. In his mind's eye he could see Carrie's smiling come-on, could feel the pressing need even now against the fabric of his jeans. He remembered the sight of Maggie as she laughed at Merritt's words, her hand on Merritt's arm as they danced, the possessive curve of Merritt' s arm around her.

  If Maggie felt any frustrations tonight, Tanner was sure John Merritt was solving them for her.

  He headed up the highway, furious.

  It was past two by the time he turned onto the gravel road that led into the Three Bar C. His fury hadn't abated, nor had his frustration. But he slowed down anyway because he didn't want to announce his return with any more noise than he had to. He even turned off his headlights as he came into the ranch yard. He looked for Merritt's car.

  He didn't see it, but that didn't mean he wasn't still here. Maggie might have had him pull it into the shed. Or—and this thought made his stomach hurt even worse—she might have even left with him.

  There was still a light on in the kitchen and another on the back porch—as if she'd left it on to light up her return.

  He got out of the truck and started toward the bunk-house. Habit alone made him stop at the barn. In his hurry to be gone this evening, he hadn't taken the time to check the two cows that still hadn't calved. He wanted at least to look in on the horses.

  He did it quickly and casually, until he came to the last stall.

  Sunny wasn't there.

  Tanner stared at the empty stall, then shook his head, trying to clear it of the two beers he'd had in Casper, trying to figure out where he'd gone. Sunny's saddle and bridle were gone, too.

  No one rode Sunny. Except Maggie.

  She couldn't have. Wouldn't have, he assured himself. She had no reason.

  He rejected the notion even as his mind was beginning to grapple with the unpleasant truth: she very well might have. Especially if she knew he hadn't checked the cattle.

  Maybe the cattle had nothing to do with it. Maybe she'd gone off for a moonlight ride with Merritt.

  He sure as hell didn't want to go looking for her if that was what she was doing.

  But what if she hadn't?

  It was the middle of the night. She ought to have returned by now. Unless...

  Quick as he could, Tanner saddled Gambler and led him out.

  He headed toward the pasture just east of the ridge, the one where he'd put the two remaining pregnant heifers. He had no way of knowing if that was where she'd headed. He had no way of knowing if she was with Merritt. He'd feel like a complete fool if she was.

  He couldn't stop himself.

  There was precious little moonlight to see by. He opened the gate and pulled out his flashlight and scanned the countryside, searching for any sign of Maggie or the horse.

  Nothing.

  Nowhere.

  Not until he came over a rise and played the light along the edge of a stand of trees. For an instant its arc caught Sunny in its beam.

  Before he could call out, he heard a voice. "Robert! Over here." She sounded frantic.

  Tanner gritted his teeth. He played the flashlight over the area, looking for her. At least there was only one horse. But what if she was hurt? He spurred Gambler across the field toward the sound of her voice.

  "What in the hell are you doing?" he began, swinging out of the saddle.

  "Help me."

  There was a thread of panic in her voice that squelched his anger. With the help of the flashlight he found her crouched on the ground, her arm in the business end of a laboring heifer.

  "Thank God you're here! She's having a lot of trouble with this calf. It's coming out all wrong. Or rather, it isn't coming out at all." Her voice quavered slightly. She sounded exhausted, but determined.

  Tanner crouched beside her. "Let me see." He cursed himself for his selfish desertion of duty. He was the one who should have been out here tonight, not Maggie.

  She shifted aside to make room for him, moving to soothe the cow as she had done the last time. "Shh now, sweetie," she crooned. "Everything will be fine. Robert's here."

  As if he was going to make things all right. Tanner's jaw clenched. He checked the position of the heifer.

  "Don't get your hopes up," he muttered, tossing off his jacket. He hadn't brought his rope, so he pulled his belt out of the loops, then braced himself.

  He supposed he was lucky. This calf was smaller than the last one he'd had trouble with, and the cow hadn't been in labor as long. But it took some work to get its head forward and in position and the belt around its feet. Then he settled his own feet against the heifer and pulled on the belt while the cow strained to deliver her burden.

  "Here she comes!" Maggie cried.

  And the next moment he had a messy, bloody, squirming calf in his lap.

  "Oh, Robert! Oh, heavens!" Maggie exclaimed. She was laughing, exulting as the calf wriggled in his arms and he lifted it to place it in front of the mother.

  "Thank God," he muttered.

  "Thank you. I knew you could do it," Maggie said, her voice warm and approving. "It's fantastic."

  Tanner grunted. "It was luck." By rights he should've lost the calf and the heifer. He sure as hell didn't deserve any praise.

  "I'm so relieved you came when you did," Maggie said now, crouching next to him, watching as the cow licked her calf.

  "I should never have left," Tanner muttered. He finished with the afterbirth and hauled himself to his feet. "I should've been here when she started."

  "It was your time off."

  "I shouldn't have taken it."

  "You deserved some time off. I agreed to it," she reminded him.

  "It was my job," Tanner said doggedly. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. You better get yourself a new foreman."

  Maggie looked up at him, shocked. She scrambled to her feet. "Don't be ridiculous. What sort of nonsense is (hat?"

  "It's not nonsense. It's called fulfilling your responsibilities. I didn't fulfill mine. I'd fire anyone who let me down like this." He met her gaze, grateful the darkness covered at least some of the shame he felt.

  It was the same guilt all over again, the same guilt that had assailed him when Clare had lost their child and he'd been nowhere around. The calf hadn't been quite so unlucky—no thanks to him.

  "Well, it's a good thing you're not me, then," Maggie said at last. "Isn't it?"

  He didn't answer.

  "Robert, really. It's okay. You were here." She laid a hand on his arm. He tried not to flinch away. Her touch could undo him and he knew it. He wasn't up to fighting her right now.

  "I might not have been. I showed lousy judgment and you know it."

  Maggie just looked at him. "This isn't just about the calf, is it?"

  "Leave it, Maggie."

  She sighed. "If you say so. But I say you're allowed a lapse."

  "I don't—"

  "I don't care what you say," Maggie went on firmly. "You came when it mattered."

  "But—"

  "That's enough, Robert. Come on. You're a mess. You need to get cleaned up."

  "Not now." He couldn't ride back with her now. "I'll be along."

  "I'll wait for you."

  He shook his head. "No. You've done your share. And mine," he added heavily.

  "I don't mind wait—"

  "No." His voice was flat, brooking no argument, and Maggie must have realized he wasn't going to be talked around.

  "You're an ornery, stubborn, pigheaded cowboy," she told him.

  He nodded. "Thank you, ma'am."

  She dimpled and gave the brim of his hat a tug. "Hurry home," she said softly, then mounted her horse and started toward the road that led to the house.

  Tanner watched her go. She was perhaps thirty yards from him when he called after her, "How come Merritt didn't come with you?"

  He could have kicked himself the moment the words wer
e out of his mouth even though he knew he couldn't have stopped them. Nor could he help the surge of elation he felt when Maggie turned in the saddle and called back to him, "He left before midnight."

  It was a cool night for skinny-dipping. The water running down from the mountains was almost pure melted snow. The shower back in the bunkhouse sounded a lot more tempting. But the drumming of the water in the shower stall would wake Andy, asleep on the other side of the thin-walled partition.

  Anyway, Tanner thought as he tied Gambler to a cot-tonwood and headed toward the creek, a little cold creek water might just possibly shock some sense into him. God knew he needed some.

  The swiftly moving creek was almost twenty feet wide and perhaps three feet deep. There was a swimming hole farther south, but he didn't have time to ride there.

  Besides, he wasn't here for swimming. He was here to wash off the remains of the calf's birth and to dampen, literally, his sexual frustration.

  Tanner tugged off his boots and socks, his jacket and shirt and jeans. If Maggie had stayed he'd have kept his shorts on.

  If Maggie had stayed...! There was a laugh.

  He wouldn't be anywhere near this creek in his underwear if Maggie had stayed with him. That would have been asking for trouble.

  He stripped off his shorts and T-shirt and dropped them by his jacket. Then he picked up the clothes the calf had mucked up and carried them to the creek.

  The cool night breeze made him shiver. The icy water shocked him. He bent, scrubbing his clothes against the rocks, swishing them in the water, scrubbing them some more and finally rinsing them. Wringing them in his hands, he carried them back to the bank and spread them on the grass. If there was any desire left in him after he plunged back in the icy creek, those clothes would take care of it on the way home.

  He turned and headed back into the creek, ducking under, shuddering as the frigid water enveloped him, yet grateful for the ache it shot through him. It was an ache that would blot out his desire for Maggie MacLeod. His body might not enjoy it as much as it would have enjoyed a tumble in the sheets with the girl from the bar, but his mind and his emotions would be happier.