by Lois Greiman
9
TY STREAKED DOWN THE HILL. “Hannah!” he yelled.
He found her on the ground, her pale face turned up. Not ten yards away stood a black cow with steam billowing from its nostrils.
“Hannah! Stay down.”
But she was already rising to her feet, and the cow, incensed, dove at her again.
There was nothing Ty could do but fling himself between them and swing the cane with all his might. It smacked across the cow’s tender nose and splintered in two.
Bellowing in surprise, the Angus skittered to a halt, shook her head once, then turned tail and ran.
Ty rushed to Hannah, breathing her name as he bent down beside her. “Are you all right?”
“Cranky II?” she asked, her voice barely audible over her hiss of pain.
“What?”
“That must have been your token mean cow,” she said, trying to rise.
“Stay there,” he ordered, pressing her back down.
She did so with a groan.
“Where do you hurt?” His heart was slowing a little, and he could almost breathe again.
She winced. “You don’t want to know where I hurt.”
“Where did she hit you?”
Hannah cleared her throat. “I’m not sure. In the chest, I think.”
“She’s hamburger,” he growled.
“Do you think she has a calf?”
“If she does it’ll be her last. Come on, honey, I’ll carry you to the house.”
“No, I can…Ahhh!”
“What?”
She was panting now. “I guess I hurt my ankle.”
“Geez, Hannah, I’m sorry.” He eased his arms under her. “Hold on to my neck.”
“No, really I—”
“What? You want to carry me?”
She laughed, but the sound was raspy.
“Easy, honey. Easy,” he said. “Come on.”
“No, really!”
“Really, what?” he asked, straightening with her in his arms. But when his gaze caught hers, he saw there were tears in her eyes, sparkling there, not yet set loose. “Hannah.” He breathed her name.
“Please,” she murmured. “It’s my job. I said I could do it, and I…” She drew a catchy breath. “It’s important that I do.”
He’d thought he’d seen stubbornness before. When Nate was eight years old he’d insisted he could ride Cranky’s first calf. It took him twelve tries. By the time he was finished, his arms were nicked up like a distressed end table, and his face had sported more colors than an artist’s palette, but he’d ridden the calf.
“You’re saying you’won’t be happy until you’ve checked the stock?” he asked.
Mere inches separated their faces. Such proximity did nasty things to his blood pressure.
“This is the first job I’ve ever had.” Her words were very soft, like a child’s admission of some secret sin that the whole world already knew. To laugh at her would certainly be criminal.
“Really?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Then you’d better see it through,” he said, and carried her away from the house.
“I can walk.”
“No, you can’t.” He proceeded to make a round of the pasture with her in his arms. Not far from where she’d been struck, they found Cranky hovering over her firstborn. The calf was on its feet but shaking with cold.
“Shouldn’t we put them in the barn?” Hannah asked.
“I’ll get you in the house, then come back and take care of that.”
“But…”
It was a mistake to glance into her eyes, for they were too wide and too pleading.
“Of course, I could use some help,” he said.
He carried her to the gate that stood between the newborn yard and the pregnant heifer pasture. Setting her gingerly on her feet, he backed up a couple careful paces.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“All right. Make sure no cows go in or out until I get back. I’m going to be carrying baby, so Cranky might be a little testy.”
“I noticed she had a propensity toward that.”
He almost reached out and touched her cheek to assure himself she was all right, but he stopped himself just in time.
“Just make sure you keep the gate between you and the cow,” he said.
“You can count on it.”
The rain had let up a little by the time he reached Cranky and the baby. Talking all the while, Ty approached the two slowly, then bent, never taking his gaze from the cow, and lifted the calf into his arms. Being careful to keep the newborn between himself and the mother, he backed slowly toward the barn. The cow followed with worried grunts and snuffled warnings, but finally they were through the gate.
Placing the baby down on the deep bedding of straw beneath the roof, Ty backed away and returned to Hannah.
“Good job,” he said.
“Yeah.” She smiled tentatively. “I can stand by a fence with the best of them,” she said, and eased the gate shut.
“You did good,” he insisted, and because he couldn’t help himself, he bent and lifted her into his arms again.
She opened her mouth to protest, but he shushed her.
“Don’t bother arguing,” he said. “I do this for everyone.”
“Really?”
Her face was very close to his. He could smell the sweet freshness of her shampoo but couldn’t quite place it. Lemon? Papaya? Something that spoke of wealth and warmth, not of cow yards and twisted ankles. How long would she be here?
She cleared her throat. He felt her tension against his arms. “I suppose you carried Howard around just like this?” she asked.
It was difficult to even recall the old cowhand’s leathery face when she was near. “You bet,” he said. “All the time. It was in our contract. And he weighed more. ‘Bout four inches shorter and fifty pounds heavier. You should gain some weight.”
“Trying to make me look like Howard?” she asked.
“It’d be better for my blood pressure.” He snorted. “Can you get the door?”
She did so with some difficulty, opening the barn door far enough to allow them to squeeze through.
They made a quick trip between the cattle stalls, then through the horse barn. All was quiet.
By the time they reached the house, Ty was feeling the strain on his back and arms.
“Door,” he said.
She opened it with an ease borne of practice.
He strode quickly across the linoleum. “You know what I said about gaining weight? I changed my mind,” he admitted, and bending, deposited her carefully on the couch. But when she was settled there, he found it impossible to draw away immediately.
“Here.” He knelt near her feet. “Let me get those boots off.”
“I can do it.”
“Lie back,” he ordered.
She did so. “I feel like an idiot.”
“We all get trampled on once in a while,” he said, reminding them both of his story about Cranky 1.
He eased off her left boot.
She winced a little. “At least you didn’t laugh,” she said.
No, laughter had been the furthest thing from his mind. The panic had momentarily drowned his sense of humor. “How does it feel?”
“Fine.”
“You lie,” he said, and slipped off her other boot.
After depositing mem in the hallway, he returned to her side.
“Want some pillows?”
“Really, you don’t have to—”
But he turned away, returning in a few minutes with a trio of pillows and an ice pack. After removing her coat and covering her with a blanket, he propped her up, then moved back down to her feet.
“We’re gonna have to get that sock off.”
“Eventually,” she said.
“Now.”
“Are you always so bossy?”
“Sometimes I’m worse.”
“I’m sure if I just rest it’ll
be fine in the morning.”
“Or maybe it’ll be swollen up like an eggplant.”
“Eggplant?”
“Fat and purple.”
“That’d be bad.”
“Yeah.” Setting his hands to her ankle, he paused with a scowl. “This could be ugly,” he warned.
“You’re telling me,” she said. “I didn’t shave my legs today.”
“I’ll try to hide my horror. Ready?”
She nodded.
In the end it wasn’t as bad as he had feared. She hissed an inhalation between her teeth as he eased her sock off, but other than that, she remained silent.
The ankle was slightly swollen but not discolored.
“You must have twisted it when you fell,” he said, fingering the swelling. “I’ll get you something for the pain.”
He was gone for several minutes. Hannah could hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. But soon he was back, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate and an assortment of other stuff.
She swallowed the pills he gave her and sipped the chocolate.
Tyrel drew up a chair next to her.
“I think we should ice it and bandage it,” he said. “Unless you want to go straight to the doctor.”
“The doctor?” She laughed. “It’s nothing.”
His gaze held hers. “Every time I think I’ve got a loop on you, you throw me,” he said. “Surely Daddy wouldn’t be happy if he knew his little girl were injured and unattended.”
For a moment, she considered telling him that Daddy had begged her to stay at The Lone Oak. But her pride stopped her. “I’m not as delicate as you think.”
“Delicate?” he said, feeling breathless. “Sometimes I think you could whip me and Nate with nothing more than the sharp edge of your tongue. Then sometimes…” He shrugged. “You’re the kind to make a man wonder, Hannah Nelson.”
She glanced at her mug. “I used to ride a horse called Sargeant Pepper. He could clear six feet without breaking a sweat. But sometimes he’d get sloppy, and the thing about Sarge was, he didn’t care if he fell. Shelby used to call him The Tank.”
Tyrel was watching her very closely, as if absorbing every word. She shouldn’t speak of her past, she knew, shouldn’t trust him. After all, her life was in danger. Not to mention her heart. But he seemed so safe, so comforting, so alluring that it all but left her speechless.
“Anyway, we’d made it to the triple bars. He was jumping strong. But he didn’t get quite enough lift We came down together, but he got to be on top.” She picked absently at a loose thread in the blanket.
“So what happened?”
“I fractured my wrist Daddy insisted I spend a few days in the hospital, and then he bought me a new Porsche.”
“A step up from the Rabbit,” he said.
“Yes. He bought me a Porsche and begged me not to ride again.”
“And did you?”
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. But suddenly it did. All her life had come down to money and bribes, it seemed. And for the first time she understood what her father had meant in his letter. Life wasn’t made up of things and possessions, but of effort and achievements. Achievements she’d never achieved.
“I rode some,” she said. “But I had other things to do.”
“Like?”
“Buff my toenails.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work. “Shelby said if I didn’t want to try he didn’t need me there.” She paused. The square of the window was absolutely black. “He was never impressed with either my money or my name. He said he didn’t need anyone who didn’t have the heart.”
“Heart?” Tyrel’s voice was nothing more than a warm murmur. “I’ve never known anyone with more heart than you, Hannah.”
Suddenly she wished he would kiss her, would pull her into his arms and tell her she was worthwhile, strong, wonderful, sexy, smart Right now, just hearing him say she had good diction might ease her mind.
“Well…” He cleared his throat after an eternity of silence. “I’ll bandage that ankle.”
She considered arguing, but it hardly seemed worth the effort.
Rising from his chair, he retrieved an Ace bandage from the floor. Then, lifting her legs, he scooted under her feet His hands were very warm on her ankle, and his thigh, beneath the pad of her foot, felt as firm and warm as a stallion’s chest. He wrapped her ankle with efficiency and care, and despite her hopes, the job was soon finished.
“Did you do that for Howard, too?” she asked, feeling breathless and silly.
“Sure,” he said, “but you’ve got nicer…everything.”
Their gazes caught.
“Well, I’ll, uh…get you to bed.”
She nodded, though she wasn’t the least bit tired.
In a moment he lifted her in his arms again. The stairs creaked beneath their combined weight. He pressed her door open with his elbow. On the bed, Sean arched his back, then slunk away.
Ty deposited her gently against the rumpled blankets, but he didn’t immediately draw his hands away. “Hannah…”
She stared at him, lost in a hundred thoughts she should not be allowing. “Yes?” The single word sounded uncertain, as though it wasn’t sure if it were a question or an answer to something that had not yet been asked.
Ty drew a deep breath, then bending closer, swept a few strands of hair from her brow and kissed her forehead. “Sleep well,” he said and turned away.
“Ty.” His name came to her lips without her permission.
He turned in the doorway, his expression solemn, his body tense.
A thousand errant words flashed through her mind. Stay with me, Ty. I love you, Ty.
She banished them all. “Did you do that for Howard?” she asked. He looked bewildered. She felt like an idiot, knowing she was only trying to delay his inevitable departure. “Kiss him?” she whispered.
His grin was like warm brandy, slow, exhilarating. “Sleep in,” he said, and turning, pulled the door nearly closed behind him.
TY WOKE JUST AFTER six o’clock. Three calves had been born during the night. He’d spent time with each, iodining their navels, administering vitamin A shots. He should be tired. And yet his bed held little appeal. Not when she wasn’t there with him.
Shaking his head, Tyrel banished the thought and dressed himself in jeans, T-shirt and a long-sleeved flannel shirt. Within minutes he was in the hallway, but despite his better judgment, he couldn’t quite force himself past her door.
Knocking on the wall, he quietly called her name.
No answer.
“Hannah,” he said again, and opening the door a crack, peeked inside. The bed was empty except for the one-and-ahalf-eared cat who arched his back and made an unreceptive noise low in his throat.
Closing the door, Ty hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Where’s Hannah?”
Two faces turned toward him. Pansy’s wrinkled like a catcher’s mitt, Nate’s already grinning.
“She already left,” Pansy groused. “With nothing but an orange between her and starvation.”
“Left?” Ty asked. Panic tasted bitter.
Nate laughed. “Geez, brother, have some pride. She didn’t skip the country. She just went out to the barn.”
Ty scowled and ran his fingers through his hair. “How’d she look?” he asked.
Nate’s expression brightened even more as he shrugged. “I don’t know. Kind of like a blond Cindy Crawford.”
Ty made a noise that sounded surprisingly like the cat’s. “Was she limping?”
“Limping?” Pansy and Nate said together.
Nate’s expression was happier than ever. “What the…” He glanced at the minuscule cook, checked his profanity and continued. “…heck did you do to her?”
“It’s none of your business,” Ty said, and hurried outside. He found her in the horse barn, just peeling Nate’s loop from the roping dummy. Leaning against the wall behind him, he watched her for a moment.
She’d pulled her hair into a flaxen ponytail that stuck out of the hole in the back of her cap. The word Pioneer was written across the crown. Her legs, encased in pale denim, looked slim and endless, and her torso was hugged by one of Howard’s old shirts. It was Western cut, with little peaks on each pectoral. The peaks reached nearly to her nipples, and at the end of each peak was a pearl-toned snap. God help him!
“I thought you were going to sleep in,” he said.
She looked up with a gasp. “Oh! No.” She drew a deep breath. “I wasn’t tired.”
Pushing himself off the wall, he took a few strides toward her. “You should be off that ankle.”
She cleared her throat and coiled her lariat Never in his life had he seen a messier job done of it. “It’s fine now,” she said, and glanced up at him.
“Yeah?” It was absolutely the only word he could think of to say when she looked at him like that.
“Yes.”
There was silence after that clever exchange.
“Listen,” He broke the quiet with too much volume and felt foolish because of it. “We’ll be taking Houdini into the Valley today for the stock show. I was wondering…” Don’t clear your throat, don’t scrape your boot around in the dust, and for God’s sake, don’t blush like some half-witted hayseed, he warned himself. “I was wondering if you’d like to come along,” he said.
“Well, I—”
“I could use the help,” he said quickly, then slowed his words and his breathing. “We’d be back tomorrow.”
“I’d better stay here and keep an eye on the stock.”
“Nate said he wanted to.” It was a blatant lie. And not a good one. Nate might be a fair hand with the cows and a damn fine headin’ partner, but he wasn’t the kind to miss a day in town. “He said he’d like you to go instead of him. You may think showing a bull is all glamour and glory. But it ain’t going to get me on ‘Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.’” He tried a smile to go with his clever wit. Geez, he was sad. And desperate. Desperate to be near her. To speak to her. To hear his name on her lips.
She lifted the rope. “But I should—”
He interrupted her again. “You could bring your lariat. In fact, they might have some roping demonstrations. You could pick up a few pointers.”
“Well…” She paused. He held his breath like a child awaiting a lollipop. “I guess if you don’t mind.”