by London, Cait
Alek loved. He simply loved people and life and nurturing, growing gardens, planting trees, raising sheep and cattle. Baby, a motherless calf that Alek bottle-fed, followed him around the ranch, and he tucked her in each night Then Abby, Jules, Rommie and Lincoln arrived, calves bawling for his attention. Alek collected animals like he had collected children, fitting perfectly into the former Kostya farm. Fadey had gone with the Kostyas, leaving a pup—Sergio—with Alek. Sergio promised to be a better sheepdog than his parent and clearly loved Alek.
Elspeth borrowed scrapbooks filled with his stories from the Petrovnas. She cried at his printed images, the horrors he’d seen and shared with the world. Alek caught her in her weaving room, the scrapbooks opened on the floor in front of her.
“Hey! What’s this?” he asked urgently, sitting on the floor to draw her into his lap.
She pushed at him, raw with the fresh discovery of what he’d seen. “Leave me alone.”
“What? So you can make more walls, keep me out? Me, a Petrovna?” he demanded, outrage hissing through his low, dangerous tone.
“You want too much, Alek. I don’t know that I can give you what you want,” she burst out, tears streaming down her face. She flailed at him, and he caught her wrists, kissing them. She resented him; he did this to her, making the tears come. Since she’d met him, she’d been nothing but uncertain. She’d changed, and he’d been the cause.
“Oh, baby. Don’t cry. You’re wonderful. Just seeing you, loving you, makes me happy.”
She let him comfort her, because she could do little else. But in the end, she knew that one day she’d come to a dangerous edge. As she stroked the shawl, she knew that whatever edge waited for her, Una had pondered the same decisions, picking her way carefully.
Maybe it was that premonition that caused her to weave a Tallchief tartan, to think of Alek while she worked, at home in her shadows and peace. The explosive Petrovnas consumed quiet, and Elspeth often surprised herself by forgetting everything but a passionate exchange on a simple matter.
They were on her porch swing, holding hands and watching the September evening dust the streets. Fall came quickly; it scented the air and touched the leaves. She held her breath when she gave him the parcel, wrapped in brown paper and twine, He swallowed, clearly delighted. “You made this for me?”
“You’ve been giving me enough presents. The heather made it through this year, and I adore it. Open it”
His fingers trembled when he tore away the wrappings and held up the plaid. He turned to her, one fist gripping the plaid and the other hand reaching for her. Alek jerked her to him and buried his face in her hair, his body trembling. “I’ll wear it. Thank you.”
“Not on your suit at my next showing, Petrovna.” Already she saw him, a fine bit of swagger to his walk, hair wild around his angular face, touching the tartan resting on his broad shoulders.
He held it up to the sunlight, admiring it “I’ll wear it and the kilts you’ll make me to go with it”
She had to laugh. “You’re pushing and full of yourself, Petrovna.”
But the kilts were already dancing on her fingertips, waiting to be made….
“Look in the box again, Alek. You’ve missed something.” I “Mmm. More,” Alek exclaimed with the delight of a little boy approaching a chocolate cake. He picked through the wrapping and smoothed the swatches of Tallchief plaid. “For my kids overseas, “he murmured, running his fingertips over them as though the wool were polished gold, handcrafted and glowing. “They’ll like these.”
“They’re only bits—” He’d humbled her, so thankful for so little.
Alek’s finger on her lips stopped her. “You’ve given them and me something special, Elspeth-mine. You’re wonderful.”
He told her with his lips that he adored her, which only frightened her more.
The second week of September brought a cold wind from the mountains; the aspens now shimmered in brilliant orange shades. Elspeth finished two fresh designs for Mark, who rejoiced that Alek hadn’t totally killed her creative urge. Using a triangular frame, she created Tallchief Mountain, surging out of the rest of the design, and dusted it with heather.
Oh, she had urges, all right. Big ones, where Alek was concerned. Elspeth frowned at the roses blooming in the September sun. She’d stayed home to take a call from Fiona before going to the rodeo. With October approaching, Fiona called home more often, reminded of their parents’ deaths.
Delight waited, tethered to Elspeth’s back porch by Birk—just in case she wanted to ride, showing off for the Tallchiefs. She planned to ride to the rodeo, but not the showy trick riding or barrel racing she’d done growing up; she wanted to show off Delight, representing Tallchief Cattle Ranch.
As usual, Fiona was late and in trouble with an attorney’s son, a regular nerd-boy, she called him. It had all started as a protest on the steps of his father’s offices—a man who was in favor of wiping out an entire colony of endangered reptiles to build an industrial park. Fiona had padded herself to look heavily pregnant and, when the newspapers arrived, managed to look like the had-and-deserted by the attorney’s son.
Following his kidnapping of her, nerd-boy had actually had the nerve to kiss her; he’d actually had the nerve to tell her she was beautiful pregnant and should reconsider her old-maid state. He’d eyed her appreciatively and told her she looked fertile and he wanted healthy children…. Fiona had hit him over the head with a chair, knocked him unconscious and then was faced with guilt and nerd-boy’s outraged fiancée. She missed home suddenly, and Elspeth smiled, sensing that Fiona would soon arrive in Amen Flats and not alone.
“Aye,” Elspeth said with Fiona, no need for good-byes between them.
Mad Matt skidded his bike tires on Elspeth’s driveway and called through her open screen door, “Miss Tallchief, you better hurry up. Alek is going to ride after the next two guys. Talia said you’d want to see him ride Diablo.”
Elspeth stopped on her way to the door, heart pounding. Alek was a good rider—they’d raced horses, and she was faster, lighter in the saddle. Amen Flats’s rodeo wasn’t for an average rider. The westerners in Amen Flats had been brought up on saddles and bucking horses. Diablo was a mad-tempered horse, formerly owned by a man who’d abused him; Diablo had broken bones of the men who tried to ride him. The horse was what the old-timers called a “’killer”. He knew how to jump on all fours, bend his back and come down twisting. He knew how to ram against a fence, catching a cowboy’s leg, and once he got a cowboy in the arena alone—
Elspeth let out the breath she’d been holding, caught by the terror on the last cowboy’s face. She didn’t think; she just grabbed the shawl she’d been holding, sensing a dangerous edge just as Una had long ago. Elspeth wanted the safety of the past wrapped around her, because Alek needed her protection.
“Go ahead, Matt. I’ll be there in a minute.”
The boy leapt on his bike, spewing dust on his way out of her driveway. “You’ll have to hurry if you want to see him.”
“I’ll be there.” Elspeth grimly strapped on her chaps over her jeans. With Delight under her, she’d be at the rodeo before Alek rode, and could save his neck. She slid into the saddle, stuffed the shawl into the saddlebags and bent low in the saddle.
Alek wrapped his glove in the rope, preparing to ride Diablo. He gently lowered himself. The horse was good and mean, just what Alek wanted. After this rodeo, Diablo was his; the horse had been maltreated, and Alek would give him a home. The horse already liked him in a mean-evil way, a case of mutual respect of man and beast. In a way, Diablo reminded Alek of Elspeth, hard clear through and breaking before bending.
He loved her, damn it Loved her with every bit of his heart, his dreams.
She gave him only so much, and then the doors closed. He had dreams of her walking to him in that shawl, with the moon big and bright in the night sky. Of the Bridal Tepee behind her…of their life in front of them.
Being patient had just about rippe
d him to shreds. But he could do it, letting off steam once in a while, and right now Diablo seemed just mean enough to suit Alek’s dark mood.
From the rough grandstands, Alek caught his mother’s fears, the grim pride of his father and Talia’s hesitant smile, Calum at her side. Everyone had someone, and Elspeth wasn’t giving in easily.
He focused on the horse and lifted his hat to see if Talia’s good-luck satin ribbon was still in place; Elspeth’s swatch was in his pocket. He’d carried it through wars and he’d been safe enough. Then Alek lowered himself gingerly, firmly, onto the saddle, and Diablo bucked in the stall, edging around to try to crush his rider.
“Easy, boy.” Alek gentled the horse as he had earlier. “When this is over, you’re going home with me. You watch your side of the fence, and I’ll watch mine. You’ll have plenty to eat and maybe a few girlfriends along the way. But you won’t have to worry about being hurt. Elspeth will have you eating out of her hand in no time, just like me.”
Diablo reared again as another horse streaked by, the rider wearing a flash of red and gold. Elspeth stood on the saddle, her arms raised high and the shawl flapping behind her, drawing the audience’s attention.
She dropped, and Alek almost lost his grip on the riding rope, quickly reclaiming it. His heart wasn’t so easy to retrieve. Elspeth appeared low on the other side of Delight, supported by a stirrup and her grasp on the running horse’s mane.
The audience stood to its feet, screaming, cheering as Delight rounded the arena in an easy gallop. Alek, worried about Elspeth, eased off Diablo and up onto the stall; relieved of his rider, Diablo settled down immediately. “What is that woman doing?” Alek asked Duncan hoarsely when he could speak.
“Saving your neck.” Grim lines bracketed Duncan’s mouth. “Taking the pressure off you. They’ve been waiting for her to ride for over five years, and now they have what they want. They won’t care if you ride Diablo or not. She’s giving you a way out, to save your pride.” Duncan jumped down into the arena, followed by his brothers and Alek.
“Is that so? She’s going to feel some pressure when my hand hits her backside. She could get hurt.” Alek’s heart plummeted to his boots when Elspeth edged up into the saddle and stood on the back of the horse, standing as it circled the arena. Just as suddenly, she dropped from sight and appeared at the other side, her moccasins skimming the earth, and then she swung up again.
“Don’t distract her, Alek,” Calum said quietly.
“She’s out of shape. She almost didn’t haul herself up in time. One hoof on that shawl, and her neck could be broken.” Birk’s face was as taut as his brothers’.
Elspeth quickly balled the shawl into her saddlebags as though recognizing the danger. Then she began the series of swings to the ground and back up into the saddle, pitting herself against the animal, concentrating on every trick.
“She’s giving it everything she’s got, just like she always did,” Duncan noted. “But even a rider who practices every day shouldn’t try that routine. She learned it from Mom.”
The brothers shot Alek disgusted, threatening looks.
Wrapped in sheer terror that Elspeth could fall, that a hoof could kill her, Alek could not move. His boots were rooted to the arena floor, and he felt the blood drain from him. If she fell, he’d be there; if she didn’t, he wanted her to know she’d purely raked the heart right out of him.
When Elspeth was seated on the saddle firmly, the shawl withdrawn from the saddlebags and now around her shoulders, Delight circled the arena in an easy canter. Alek walked out into the middle of the ring, slapping his hat along his thigh every step. She circled him slowly, the shawl flaming in the sun, as richly colored as the aspens on the mountains.
The dyes should have faded in Una’s shawl, yet the colors remained strong, just as his love would remain for Elspeth. The shawl had been well loved and taken care of, just as he planned to do with Elspeth…if she didn’t break her neck first.
“You’re in for it,” Alek snapped, meaning it. He slapped his hat against his chaps. Riding the edge of fear had set him off. “I can’t find one bit of patience in me right now, lady. You’d better get off that horse now. You’re an evil-hearted—”
“Save the sweet talk, Petrovna,” she shot back, her eyes flashing steel at him. “You ride that killer horse and—”
“You would say that to me, a Petrovna? I finish what I start.” Alek’s leather glove shot out to grab Delight’s reins; he glared up at Elspeth, not shielding her from his anger or his need. “Say you love me. Come out and say it. Say you were afraid what happened to me, just like that day you came running to save me from Duncan. You loved me then and you love me now. We’ve loved each other since this all began…we’re a part of each other, lady, and you know it.”
Delight pranced, sidestepping as the shawl fluttered around Elspeth’s rigid body. “You’re a hard ride,” she said finally, employing a western term that meant he wasn’t an easy man.
“I won’t leave you. You won’t wake up some morning and find that I’m off to cover a war. I won’t hurt you. I’ll love you all the days of my life and then some. I’ll give you children, if you want, and I’ll be by your side when you need me. You might not like hearing the truth, but I’ll always give it to you. I’ll be your best friend, if you’ll let me, and ready to love you with my body in a heartbeat. You’re moving in with me, and the next time you decide you’re going to try something like this—” He fought the cold ripple of fear skidding along his skin, not wanting to think about the next time.
Tears shimmered in her eyes, dropping to the shawl. Fear rasped in her voice, her face pale with terror. “Promise me you won’t ride Diablo. Promise.”
Alek took a long look at the woman he loved. It would cost him a measure of pride to walk away from the horse. But with fear riding Elspeth, his pride meant nothing. She’d been through so much, and he hadn’t been there for her. But he was now, in every heartbeat.
Alek reached up, grabbed the shawl and hauled her down for his kiss. He had to know that she was all right, that she tasted the same, smelled the same, looked at him with that same dark, mysterious, heavy-lidded stare after he kissed her.
“It will cost you,” he said finally when her lips were ripe from his. “And you’ll promise me that you’ll never ride like that again, not until we’ve—a together ‘we’—have talked about it.”
She blinked and glanced at the pink bow tied neatly in his hair. Alek didn’t want to explain Talia’s good-luck charm. He slapped on his hat, walked back to a fence and swung up on it.
Elspeth followed on Delight. “Alek! Where are you going?”
He took off his hat and lifted it to the silent, watching crowd. Spellbound, they’d seen him grovel and break Petrovna’s law. They knew he loved Elspeth and that she’d come around. But right now, none of that helped, not while he was wearing a big jagged hole for his heart. “Ladies and gentleman. I am going fishing. And hell yes, I like to wear pink ribbons in my hair. Hell yes, I love stubborn, muley Elspeth Tallchief. If she rides like that again, I’m holding the whole damn town accountable.”
He hopped off the fence and walked away, still caught by the terror of seeing Elspeth swing from her horse. Alek dashed away a tear with his leather glove and let his Russian curses roll over the sound of the cheering crowd. He’d lick his wounds in peace; he’d done it before.
So much for his patience. So much for his pride.
Thirteen
“What do you mean, Alek is a champion rodeo rider?’” Elspeth demanded that evening as her brothers sprawled on her front porch. Talia, Sybil, Emily, Megan and the Petrovnas—minus one Alek Petrovna—were stuffed with burgers and potato salad and awaiting the freshly churned ice cream to ripen in the wooden bucket. The ice cream would be topped with Talia’s double-rich, super-chocolate-frosted cake.
At almost seven months into her pregnancy, Sybil had eaten her cake before her bean burger and potato salad. At the baby-finish line, Talia pi
cked at her food.
The hair on Elspeth’s nape lifted as she rounded on her brothers—the rangy, raw-boned, hard-minded, un-tamed Tallchiefs wearing smirks. She pivoted back to Mr. Petrovna. She began again more quietly, spacing her words. “Is Alek a rodeo champion?”
“My son is a born-and-bred Texan, no matter what foreign countries he’s been in,” stated Mr. Petrovna proudly. “When he was just a pup, he started hiring out to ranches during the summers.”
“He can outride any man around,” Duncan, an expert on the subject, offered. “Not the fancy trick-riding stuff, just good old bull and bronc riding.”
Elspeth pivoted to him. “He’s not much in a race.”
Birk snickered; Elspeth shoved his plate of chocolate cake up into his face. Lacey burst out laughing, and Birk, in turn, pushed her mouth into the cake. She licked her lips and grinned through the circle of chocolate covering her face. “That was worth it, bub.”
Calum cleared his throat. “I believe Alek prefers to ride behind you, Elspeth. There’s…ah…certain advantages in that. And when he’s feeling abused, he likes to pit himself against a real challenge, not one he wants to kiss. I’d say Diablo was what Alek needed at the moment. We had a hard enough time unloading that horse at Alek’s after the rodeo.”
“My boy will have that bronc eating out of his hand in no time.” Mr. Petrovna licked the frosting-covered finger Megan held up to him. “I haven’t set up a tepee in years. When I figured he’d be needing something to hole up in until he wanted to…until he calmed down, Duncan told me to borrow yours from his barn. Yep. That was something there at the lake…Junior looking hard as iron and twice as mean as that killer bronc.”
Mr. Petrovna didn’t know about the tepee, about how the Tallchiefs had started bringing their brides to it, reviving Una’s legends. First there was Duncan and then Calum, and Elspeth had always known Birk would be the next to find his true love. She glanced at Duncan and Calum and found them looking at her, kneading the same thought. To Mr. Petrovna, the tepee served as whimsy, a family toying with their birthright, nothing more. Later they’d tell him, but not now, while Elspeth picked through her relationship with Alek.