Cowboy's Bride

by Barbara McMahon

  "Now, I didn't promise that, exactly. But it would go a long ways toward better harmony between us."

  "I think the harmony between us is just fine." He caressed her hip lightly with his roughened hand.

  "Stop that or I'll never get to sleep."

  "Which is what you need." With no effort he rose and carried her into her bedroom. "Will you be all right during the night?"

  "If you're worried about me, you could stay," she said, drawing the sheet over herself, trying to see his expression in the dim light spilling in from the hall. He hadn't put on her light.

  "Not on your life. What would my daughter think?" he asked.

  "Isn't she asleep by now?"

  "Yeah, and has been for hours. It's after midnight, sweetheart, give me a break. I need some rest before tomorrow."

  "And you wouldn't get it here?" she asked in mock disbelief, shivering in delight at teasing him.

  "No, and you know it. I'll be back for breakfast."

  "Charlie-"

  "Dammit, Kalli, leave it. I said I'll take care of you and I will."

  "What are you, top dog and I'm your bone? Fine. Come by in the morning." Why was he so insistent about taking care of her? Didn't she have cowboys she could ask to help?

  "Kalli, you know I still want your ranch?" His voice was low, his tone serious.

  "I thought you weren't going to bring that up again."

  "I'm not. I'm not going to say anything about it again. But I want you to know that I want the land. No matter what happens, don't go thinking anything is going on that's not. Sooner or later, I'll have the Triple T."

  "Give it up, Trace."

  "Just so you know."

  "I know. What's the matter, are you afraid I'll take this thing between us too seriously, that I might think you're falling for me? Or me for you?"

  "I'm immune, but are you?"

  "You think I'm some starry-eyed young girl who's going to fall head over heels in love with the first cowboy that comes along, don't you?" Her heart was racing now. It had nothing to do with him. He was attractive. He was appealing. He made her feel sensations she'd never even known existed before. But she would not let herself fall in love with a man who distrusted women as much as he did.

  "Yeah. What have you done to show me any different? Are you going to tell me you have love affairs all the time?"

  Love affairs? Did he see this as a love affair? The man who didn't believe in love? Her heart beat so hard he had to see it. She could fall for this man so easily. If she could get past the hurt of his wanting her to leave. If she could only get him to see her for herself and not as a representative of a betraying female who had left him alone with a young baby and never looked back.

  "No, I don't. Are you kidding, with five brothers?"

  "You didn't live at home, surely you could be discreet."

  "Go away, Trace. This conversation is getting more personal than I want. I may not be as accomplished in that area as you, but I'm not a virgin, if that's what's worrying you."

  He was intrigued. She was from Boston, a decade out of high school. Surely she'd had some affairs. What had the men been like? Had they satisfied her? Was she still looking for love like in some fairy tale, or was she on the make for a likely meal ticket? The man with the most money wins?

  "I never thought you were a virgin. Not the way you kiss."

  She was pleased. At least she did something right.

  "Want another one before you go?"

  "Yeah, only then I wouldn't be going. Good night, Kalli. Hope you sleep well."

  "Thanks. You, too."

  Yeah, right. He had as much chance of sleeping as she did of running a marathon tomorrow. He was tired, but his mind was too full of her to relax, to sleep. He'd scarcely get home before it would be time to get up. It was going to be a long night.

  7

  It was mid morning when Trace drove into Kalli's yard and drew to a stop beside the kitchen door. He had taken care of a few things at his own place, letting Kalli sleep in. When he opened the screen door to the kitchen, he was startled to see her standing by the sink, washing dishes. She was balanced on a pair of old crutches, her long legs bare and tanned beneath an indecently skimpy pair of white shorts. Her yellow cotton shirt was fitted, showing every delectable curve even more than the T- shirts she slept in. He stopped dead, staring at her.

  She turned and smiled at him. Her eyes were bright and sparkling, her dark hair tied back in a thick ponytail.

  "You must have slept in," she said.

  "I thought I'd leave that to you. How long have you been up?"

  "For ages. Charlie came by to check on me, but I was already up and dressed, so get that scowl off your face. He found these crutches for me. Apparently some cowboy a few years back broke his leg and used them. They had to be adjusted for me, of course."

  Her sunny smile warmed him. He stood in the doorway and watched her talk, watched the animation in her face. Except for the evidence of the crutches and the bandage around her ankle, she looked as fresh and fine as anyone he'd ever seen.

  Tossing his hat on the rack, he crossed the floor to pour himself a cup of coffee. He leaned against the counter while he sipped.

  "So you ate?"

  "Yes, just finishing cleaning up. What do you have planned to teach me today?"

  "The ranch is late in its spring roundup. We'll discuss that." He took a sip of the hot coffee, his eyes drawn again to her shapely legs. He remembered how silky her skin had felt beneath his fingers, how he'd like to feel those tanned legs wrapped around him, holding him tightly against her. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to look away, think about the work yet to be done.

  "Shall we use the office?" she asked brightly, a flood of sensations shimmering at his look. She licked her lips, wishing he'd kissed her good morning. Wishing for a lot of things that had nothing to do with learning to run a ranch.

  "Yeah, the office is fine." Without waiting for her, he pushed away from the counter and headed down the hall.

  By the time Kalli reached the room her uncle had used as the ranch office, Trace was sitting behind the desk, looking at her stacks of bills and reports on the desk.

  "How far along are you?"

  "I'm up to April," she replied, sinking into one of the comfortable chairs across from the desk. Pushing the other one around, she rested her injured ankle on it.

  "How's the ankle?" he asked, still studying the piles she'd made when organizing all the material for inputting into the computer, afraid if he looked at those silky legs again he'd forget why he'd come.

  "Better. With the crutches I'm more mobile and yet can keep off my ankle."

  He swiveled around in the chair, leaned back and studied her, careful to keep his gaze on her face.

  "So tell me all I need to know about spring roundup," she said as the silence stretched out.

  "It's hot, dirty, hard work. You have two choices, take it easy and have it last for several days, or go full out and get it over with as quickly as possible."

  "Which do you recommend?" she asked.

  "On my place I do it as quickly as possible. But it means getting up before dawn and usually not stopping until it's too dark to see."

  "Doing it that way, how long does it take?"

  "At Flying Cloud? A week or longer. It's a bigger spread than yours. Here, it would only take a few days. But you need a bigger crew."

  "You mean hire some more cowboys?"

  "Yeah. Or get neighbors to help. Usually the ranches around here stagger their roundups so they can help each other out. Then there are always drifters looking for a short job before moving on to the next place."

  "I don't know any neighbors, except you."

  "But they all know the Triple T, and most of them have probably heard all about you by now. You want to ask for their help?"

  "And I help in return when they need it?"

  He nodded. "You and your men when they ask."

  "Okay, if you think that'll work.
I can start calling today. Who should I call?"

  He started to say he'd take care of it. That he'd take care of everything for her, but hesitated. She wanted to run this place by herself, now was as good a time as any for her to start. To learn all that was entailed, and how complex and difficult it really was.

  "I'll make you a list of the men you should talk to. Tell them I said to call." He drew out a tablet and began writing names.

  "If I didn't mention you, would I get the same response?" she asked suspiciously.

  "Probably not." He looked up, back to the writing. "There isn't another female rancher in these parts. Most of the men are a little chauvinistic in their outlook."

  "No, really?" She grinned. She had been around the most chauvinistic man she'd ever seen for days. How could she not suspect everyone around here was like that?

  "You have a problem with that?" His eyes narrowed as he looked up.

  "I'm not used to it." Actually the thought of Trace taking care of her was appealing—to a degree. But she was an independent woman. She might like to rely on someone, but only to the extent they also relied on her.

  "Here's the list. Pick a date, start calling. Get as many men lined up as you can. When you know how many are coming, you have to plan the logistics of the roundup. Where are you going to hold it, how are you going to get food and drinks to the men, what about feed for the horses? Will you provide a place for them to sleep, or expect them to return to their ranches each night? Depending on the distance, that will cut into the workday."

  "Wait a minute, I need to get all this down on paper." She drew the tablet across and began to make notes.

  Trace spent the remainder of the morning going over every aspect with her, explaining when she had questions, making suggestions when she seemed totally lost. A couple of times he gave an order and then quickly took it back when she glared at him. By the time he rose to leave, she had a million things to do to plan her first roundup. The tasks seemed insurmountable, and this was only one aspect of a busy ranch. She took a deep breath. She would take it one step at a time.

  "Want to stay for lunch?" she offered as he reached the door.

  "No, got to get back to my own place before it falls into rack and ruin."

  She doubted it had suffered at all in the time he'd been here. She bet every one of the men on his place knew his own job and did it well without supervision. Trace wouldn't put up with any slackers.

  That afternoon Kalli began calling her neighbors, introducing herself on the phone and asking for their help. As the day waned, she didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed. She was certainly exasperated with the common theme of all the calls. "Thought Trace was buying that place," was the most common comment. “Trace can handle it," was the second most common. But once everyone heard he'd told her to call, they quickly agreed to help. She wondered what the outcome would have been if Trace had not been on her side.

  He was doing more for her than she'd realized. It would have been much easier, and more to his benefit, to ignore her, let her flounder around on her own. She might have ended up eating her own cattle to survive, just as she'd threatened.

  Kalli made her way to the bunkhouse for dinner. Charlie had prepared a delicious stew and she enjoyed the camaraderie of the men as they shared dinner. She soaked up the tales they told of past hardships and glories. She asked questions. She discovered Charlie had been a Marine for a while, Jose was courting a girl in Jackson and Josh still had dreams of winning some rodeo tide. The men seemed equally fascinated by her stories. The cosmopolitan city of Boston was as far removed from what they were used to as Paris or London would have been.

  And she asked copious questions about the ranch every chance she got. Charlie and Josh had been there the longest, over ten years, starting shortly after her last visit. They answered every question she asked, volunteered things she hadn't thought about. From their quiet, differential manner, she knew they were a little wary of her being able to run the place, but they were willing to go along for the time being and give her a chance. It made her feel welcomed for the first time since arriving in Wyoming.

  As Kalli prepared for bed, she reflected on the day. It had been great. Except she missed Trace after he left. He hadn't even touched her today. After last night, she thought he'd be a little more amorous. The kisses they'd shared had almost been X-rated. The feelings he built in her were so erotic she could scarcely stand to be apart from him. He could have at least kissed her.

  The phone rang. She sank on the bed and picked it up.

  "Kalli?"

  "Trace, I was just thinking about you."

  “Yeah, me, too. You okay?''

  "Sure. I'm in bed now."

  He was silent, picturing her in bed. He wanted to be there with her.

  "Trace?" she said softly as the silence dragged on.

  "Yeah?"

  "Did you call for a reason?"

  "Just to see how you are doing. How's your ankle?"

  "It’s feeling better. Still sore if I put any weight on it." Remembering what she'd been thinking about, she decided to test the waters. She felt safe with him several miles away. Worst case, she could always hang up on him.

  "Actually, I have other parts that ache a bit more." She lay back against her pillows, smiling into the phone, her voice low and husky.

  "Where, your shoulder?"

  "No, my lips. My.. .breasts. Do you know anyone who could kiss and make than better?" Her voice teased, craved, tantalized.

  "Oh, God," he groaned. "Hell, Kalli, why don't you just walk naked in front of me?"

  "Would that work?" she asked, smiling in quiet satisfaction. Maybe he did still want her, though he had a funny way of showing it by ignoring her today.

  "I'll come over and we'll see." The hard edge in his tone denied the romantic overtones she longed to hear.

  "Don't you dare. I'm all ready to go to sleep. My whole body feels as if it lost out to a steamroller. My ankle really does hurt. I need to get better before..."

  "Before?"

  "You know."

  He chuckled. "Maybe you better tell me."

  "Trace, you're a rancher, you figure it out."

  "Meaning?"

  "You've got cows and bulls and stallions and mares."

  "Honey, what's between us is more than what's between animals in heat."

  She felt warmth spread through every cell.

  "You're right," she whispered.

  She didn't just want a physical relationship with him. She wanted more. She liked arguing with him about the ranch. Liked pitting her wits against his. Liked listening to him talk, share the vast knowledge he had of ranching and cattle and handling men. She wanted to spend more time with him doing whatever he wanted--riding, fixing fences or sitting on the porch and enjoying the breeze from the mountains. She wanted more than just a roll in the hay with this cowboy. Lots more. And as far into the future as she could see, she didn't have much chance.

  "Damn straight, I am. Go to sleep," he growled.

  * * *

  Trace hung up the phone and moved to the window, staring out across the darkness to where he knew her house sat. He couldn't stop thinking about her. And her provocative conversation wasn't helping. He couldn't deny the ache that he carried around all the time, wanting her. He wasn't used to women like her. She had been delighted, positively sparkling when they discussed the roundup. She hadn't been overwhelmed by all the details that needed attention. She hadn't been cowed by the work involved. She'd plunged right in. Happy.

  He'd heard from Bob Marshall and Tom Hyden already. They were sending men to the roundup, both coming themselves, just to meet the new neighbor and see if she was as dainty as the bank president had said.

  They sounded pleased with Kalli. For a moment he frowned. He didn't want other men around her. He didn't want her fitting into the community, making friends. Didn't want her doing anything that was going to make it harder for her to leave. She was so stubborn already, any slight foothold
would only strengthen her resolve to remain.

  He leaned his arm against the window frame and leaned closer to the glass, seeing his reflection, seeing it fade as his imagination pictured her in bed, with one of those soft T-shirts she wore. Her legs would be bare. She'd have taken off her panties. Her dark silky hair would be spread out over the white pillowcase, soft and wavy. He clenched his hand into a fist, trying to erase the feel of her hair from his fingertips. She'd been so responsive last night, despite her injuries. God, when she'd been beneath him in her bed that morning it had taken all his control to keep from ripping off his jeans and plunging into her wet heat.

  She was so pretty. All over. Her hair was always clean and glossy and smelled slightly of strawberries. He loved the feel of it against his rough hands. He wondered why he'd ever liked blondes. That glossy midnight black hair held far more appeal. Her sparkling eyes were always laughing. Well, almost always. Other times they were snapping in anger at him. Or soft as a velvet night in summer when he was kissing her. And she packed more passion in that little body of hers than anyone he'd ever met.

  Even Alyssa.

  Hell, he didn't want to think about Alyssa. But he should. He kept her picture by his bed to remind him every day. He needed to remember how crazy he'd been for her, almost as crazy as he felt around Kalli. Crazy enough to marry her. Which had proved a major disaster. She'd left, abandoning him and their daughter. Taking all the money they'd saved to expand the ranch. Leaving her husband and baby to struggle for years to bring the ranch around. And she'd been more used to ranches and cowboys and the kind of life he led than Kalli. Starry-eyed, optimistic Kalli who wanted to live on a ranch, but didn't have a clue to what all that entailed. No, he better not forget Alyssa and the lesson she'd taught him. Turning away in disgust, he prepared for bed.

  When Kalli awoke the next morning she felt better. Except for the ache in her ankle and the bruise on her shoulder, she felt normal. The stiffness from riding had disappeared. The aches from her fall had faded. She continued to use the crutches, to give her ankle the best care she could. But she was on the mend. Fixing herself breakfast, she noticed Trace's truck was parked in its usual spot. He hadn't stopped in to see her, however. Had he come early, when she'd still been asleep? Surely he'd stop in before he left for home. She'd see him then.