The Rancher and the Redhead

by Suzannah Davis

  “I’ll bet. And now that he finally sees what a gem you are, he’ll make good in other areas, I suppose? Too bad you’re a married woman.”

  Crossing her arms, she glared at him and her voice was deadly quiet. “You say something that asinine again, and I’m going to throw something at you, I swear.”

  “Be my guest.” He waved a hand expansively. “Just don’t think I’m swallowing any of this garbage about careers and helping out an old flame meaning nothing. There’s only one reason you’d even consider this, and that’s because you want to. I guess Flat Fork can’t compete with L.A.’s bright lights.”

  “Oh, you stubborn...cowboy. Here’s the perfect opportunity to get the Lazy Diamond solvent again. What’s wrong with that?”

  “I told you, I can take care of my own.”

  “Oh, is that what you call this?” Anger sharpened her voice with sarcasm. “Too damn stubborn to throw in with Travis when you could, so now no contract! And too prideful to sell off some land or reduce the stock, because that might show the world you’ve failed. Well, Sam, you’ve got a busted truck, no credit and a wife and daughter to support. How’s your pride going to feel when the bank forecloses on the Lazy Diamond?”

  “That’s enough.”

  “It hurts to hear the truth, doesn’t it?”

  “I said that’s enough, Curly.”

  Her lower lip trembled. “Well, it hurts me, too, Sam. It hurts when you won’t treat me as an equal partner. I can help. I want to help. Don’t you know the Lazy Diamond is important to me, too? My earnings would take the pressure off, allow us to regroup.”

  “Not this way. And anyway, I can’t believe you’d consider leaving Jessie like that.”

  “I could take her with me....”

  “Hell, no!”

  “I agree it would be unwise to uproot her again. And I’ll miss her like everything, but it’ll only be for a few weeks. Can’t you see, Sam? It’s a chance I need to take. Let me do this for us.”

  His jaw was hard as iron. “I won’t have it.”

  She looked at him a long moment, blinking back tears. “Do you think you really have a choice?”

  “Don’t push me, Curly.”

  “Sam, please—”

  He yanked his hat from the peg and stomped to the door. “I mean it, woman. I’ll figure something out, don’t you worry, and it won’t mean taking advantage of your all-mighty beneficence or selling out to the likes of Jackson Dial, either. You cross me on this, and you’ll regret it.”

  The door slammed behind him. Roni gulped and pressed trembling fingers to her mouth to contain the sobs that threatened to break something free inside her chest. Stunned by the violence of Sam’s rejection of her and her offer, she stood immobile while hot tears streaked down her face.

  What was the matter with him? Couldn’t he see she was just trying to help? Or did his rejection lie in something deeper, something she’d chosen to ignore in her recent euphoric state?

  Doubts assailed her. She’d pushed for the marriage, pushed until he’d had to take her into his bed or deny his very manhood, pushed for him to let her into his heart and really into his life. She realized now it was all arrogance on her part, her cock certainty that Sam would come to love her, that he needed her as much as she needed him.

  But it was abundantly clear now that there were territories he would never allow her to enter, places inside of him that he held sacrosanct and inviolate. And in the spot where Roni hid all of her secret fears and insecurities, she knew it was because he didn’t love her. Desired her, yes. Respected and admired her, perhaps. But willing to drop all of his defenses and let her see him as he truly was, out of naked honesty and love, no.

  And the most devastating realization was that there was nothing she could do to make it happen.

  A part of her soul shriveled. What was wrong with her that she was unable to evoke the kind of devotion she yearned for from the men she cared about? Was it a genetic tendency? Something in her makeup that made her choose the wrong man again and again? A deficiency in her own feminine nature that attracted the terminally commitment phobic?

  Anguished, Roni stumbled to their bedroom and threw herself down on the coverlet. We’re friends, she told herself as she wept into Sam’s pillow. But why hadn’t she foreseen that it wouldn’t be enough? And that thought kept haunting her....

  She came awake at the creak of the bed frame and the feel of his hands on her. “Oh, Sam, I didn’t—”

  His mouth covered hers, staking a powerful claim as he silenced her. After that, he never let her have breath enough to speak, nor did he say anything himself. Kissing her relentlessly, he stole her thoughts with his caresses, then pulled her beneath him and rode her to a completion so devastating that she cried out again and again as she clung to him.

  He held her close as she sank into the exhausted haze of utter satisfaction, but her last conscious thought was a question. Was their cataclysmic joining an act of desperation on his part or hers?

  * * *

  It was a damned neat trick walking on eggshells in your Western boots, but Sam was fast becoming adept at it. He managed another half smile for something Carolyn was saying and wondered how much longer he could stand the pleasantries of this Sunday lunch with his in-laws.

  Rosie’s Café was filled with the after-church crowd, families in their Sunday best spilling out of the booths and tables around the minuscule dance floor. He was sure there’d been quite a party until the wee hours following the rodeo, a lot of two-stepping and cowboy romancing and maybe even a fist fight or two, but in the bright light spilling from the front windows the pine-paneled interior looked downright respectable, not counting the neon signs over the long, brass-railed bar advertising various brands of beer.

  But Rosie’s home-style cuisine was reason enough to draw a crowd at any time. The only sour note was the subtle tension at the corners of his wife’s lovely mouth as she coaxed Jessie into another bite of rice and gravy.

  “Watch she doesn’t choke,” Carolyn warned.

  “Oh, Mom, she loves it. Look.” Roni offered another spoonful of well-mashed beef tips and savory rice and Jessie lapped it up like a pro, beating her chubby fists against the tray of her high chair in approval.

  Jinks leaned back from his saucer of lemon meringue pie and looked around for their waitress. “Think we could get some more coffee over here? You want another cup, Sam?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Just wound tighter than a two-dollar watch.

  He didn’t want to appear inhospitable, but he hoped Jinks and Carolyn wouldn’t linger since they had the drive back to Austin ahead of them. Sam didn’t know how much longer he could be sociable, not with Roni avoiding his eyes and barely sending two words his way since they’d dressed for church and headed to town.

  Dammit, hadn’t they worked out everything last night? Surely she’d put aside that bone-headed notion about working for Jackson Dial. And from the way she’d responded to his loving, she’d certainly forgiven him for flying off the handle at her. She was his, and he had proved it to her over and over, binding her to him in the best way he knew. Then why was she still so sulled up?

  Women. Sam blew out a silent breath and looked across the dance floor to the booth where he and Roni had talked away so many Friday nights.

  Things had been a whole lot simpler then when they were just friends. Not that he’d ever regret their becoming lovers, but it sure as hell complicated matters, at least in a woman’s mind, giving her ideas and expectations despite anything a man did or didn’t say. Maybe that was what was wrong with Roni this morning—her expectations had run head-on into the reality of their life together last night.

  Well, a man had to hold on to certain standards or he wasn’t much of a man. She’d touched a raw nerve with her talk about losing the Lazy Diamond, but she was wrong to underestimate his determination. There had to be another way to salvage his self-respect, and by God, he was going to find it.

  He chanced a swi
ft glance at Roni’s averted profile. In her crisp cotton dress with its navy dots and a wide white collar, she was the image of the happy young matron at ease with her family. Only he knew that it was an act. Well, she’d get over her anger soon enough when she saw he wasn’t budging on this issue.

  Yeah, Roni was smart. She’d adjust. All he had to do was give it a little time.

  He needs more time, Roni thought.

  Time to cool off. Time to lower those masculine defenses, so that he could think clearly about the situation. Only, there wasn’t a lot of that precious commodity that Roni could give him. Her agent’s letter had made it clear Jackson had to have a decision pronto.

  If only Sam would be reasonable. Well, she’d give him the rest of the day to stew, she decided, then approach him again tomorrow. Maybe by then his male ego would have deflated enough for him to see the logical benefits of this opportunity. If not...

  Roni took a baby wipe from the diaper bag and mopped Jessie’s gravy-stained mouth and fingers, playing a peek-a-boo game to keep her from fussing. Lord, she loved this baby! Why couldn’t Sam understand that sometimes sacrifices were necessary for the good of a family?

  Family. The word stopped her, made her shiver slightly. Was that what they were? Or had it all been a pretty pipe dream? Fear ballooned in her chest, a frightened idea that she’d totally misconstrued everything. Had finding herself in love with Sam blinded her? Maybe she hadn’t realized the connection and intimacy and true partnership she’d believed that Sam was withholding out of his own fear was something that he simply wasn’t capable of giving—now or ever—because his emotions had never been truly engaged.

  Perhaps Sam still saw this all as a business proposition and, at the moment, one of the junior partners was bucking the will of the corporate boss. It was unclear to Roni whether the powerful way Sam had loved her during the night was an apology or merely an attempt to control her. She shivered again. She didn’t really want to know the answer to that.

  “Veronica, are you all right?” Carolyn asked quietly.

  “Huh?” Conscious that Sam’s gaze was upon her, Roni knew he was waiting to see if she’d try to enlist Carolyn’s support.

  But that wasn’t Roni’s way. She wouldn’t burden her mother with her problems, nor share confidences about the situation until they’d reached some resolution. And that could take some time. Roni forced a smile.

  “Sure, Mom, I’m fine. Maybe a little tired. It’s been a long weekend.”

  “For all of us. Jinks, honey, forget about that coffee. We need to get back on the road.”

  After Jinks and Sam wrangled good-naturedly over paying the tab, they all went outside to bid their adieus in the gravel parking lot.

  “Wave bye-bye to Grandma, Jessie,” Roni instructed.

  The little girl dutifully waved as Jinks and Carolyn drove off, then demanded Sam’s attention with a rapid “Da, da, da, da!”

  Sam’s expression had been rather stern throughout lunch, but now it thawed under Jessie’s sunshiny smile.

  Laughing softly, Roni passed him the baby. “You little toot! When are you going to say ma-ma?”

  “In her own sweet time, like all women,” Sam commented.

  “Yes, I suppose.” For a brief instant, the constraint had left her, but now it returned, leaving Roni feeling stiff and awkward as she reached to open the door of Sam’s truck.

  “Curly.”

  She looked up to find his blue eyes on her. “Yes, Sam?”

  But he had no idea what it was he’d intended to say. “Uh, nothing. Let’s get going. I’ve got a lot to do.”

  Time, he thought, driving the truck down the long road home.

  Time, she thought, watching his hands on the steering wheel.

  Just give it a little time.

  * * *

  It was time to take the bull by the horns.

  “I need to give Jackson an answer.”

  Roni set a plate of sandwiches in front of her husband. He and the crew had taken a late lunch after a Monday morning of cutting hay, not a cowpuncher’s favorite pastime by any means, but a necessary one, nonetheless. Sam’s hair was wet from the dousing he’d given it washing up, and his cheekbones were rosy under his tan from the sun’s harsh bite and his rapidly growing annoyance.

  “Don’t start this again.” He picked up a turkey-lettuce-and-tomato-sandwich and took a bite, mumbling, “He’s got his answer—forget it.”

  “No, Sam. That’s your answer.”

  The sandwich hit the plate. “Dammit, Roni—”

  “Lower your voice. You’ll wake the baby.”

  “We’re not going to discuss this again.” He glared at her. “And I hate turkey.”

  “It’s good for your cholesterol level, cowboy. And we are going to discuss my helping us out of our present bind in a cool and logical manner.”

  “Discuss all you want. It won’t change anything.”

  “No?” Leaning against the sink, she crossed her arms over her paint-smeared T-shirt and pinned him with her gaze. “Have you found an alternative?”

  “I’m working on it.” He looked away. “I may have a buyer for Diablo.”

  She blinked, stricken. “Oh, Sam, no. Not Diablo.”

  He pushed the plate away. “He’ll bring top dollar. Henderson’s wanted him for a long time.”

  “But you meant to breed him yourself to improve your own stock.”

  “Yeah, well, plans can change.”

  “This is ridiculous.” Picking up a dish towel, she began to wipe furiously at the already spotless counter. “There’s no need for you to sacrifice Diablo. And his selling price would be a drop in the bucket anyway.”

  “I told you to let me worry about it.”

  “Well, it’s not that easy. Other men’s wives work. This whole country is filled with two-income families.” She gave him a crooked smile and attempted to inject a little humor into the situation. “Anyway, don’t they say that behind every successful rancher is a wife who works in town?”

  “In town. Not across the country. And not for Jackson Dial.”

  “It’s just another commission,” she snapped, exasperated. Throwing down the towel, she snatched her latest sketch of Jessie’s animals—coyotes and prairie dogs—off the refrigerator door and held it out. “Are you going to tell me not to try to sell this storybook? Or not to accept the next magazine cover?”

  “That’s not the same thing.”

  “It’s exactly the same thing. What are you so afraid of? Do you think accepting my earnings will contaminate the Lazy Diamond or something?”

  Balling up his paper napkin, he tossed it on his plate and rose with a scraping of chair legs. “This is useless.”

  “No, that’s it, isn’t it?” Her eyes widened. “If you accept my help, you have to acknowledge that I have a share in this ranch and this family, too. It might obligate you to open up a little, actually reveal something about your hopes and dreams, but you’re just too yellow to risk it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about the fact that you’re not so much jealous of my seeing Jackson again as interested in protecting your territory and your emotions.” Her lips trembled suddenly. “Even against me.”

  “Jeez, don’t you start crying. I can’t stand it when you cry.”

  “Shelly slashed your heart and nearly took the Lazy Diamond, but you have to remember one thing—I’m not Shelly.”

  “I know you’re not.”

  “No, you merely treat me that way by your every deed and action. You hold me at arm’s length, afraid to let me get too close on any level.”

  “Now you’re the one being ridiculous and melodramatic.”

  She looked at him sadly, despairingly. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t trust me. You live with me and share my bed, but you’re afraid someday I’ll put a knife in your back.”

  “I’ve got work to do.”

  “Sam—”

  He
grabbed his hat off the peg, then scooped up the remains of the sandwich. “I’ll be back by suppertime.”

  The porch door slammed behind him, and Roni heard him gun the truck down the drive. She sat down at the table, realizing that she’d crushed the sketch in her fist. Deliberately, she smoothed it out with her palm, but the pastel colors smeared, spoiling hours of labor.

  She’d gotten to the crux of the problem, she thought. How could she convince Sam to trust her? And that pride of his. Like a spirited stallion, she didn’t want to break Sam so much as gentle him, but he couldn’t see it.

  Patience, she counseled herself. She sighed. And that meant refusing Jackson’s offer, no matter what the cost to the Lazy Diamond, to her career or to her marriage. Stubborn, stubborn man!

  Lips twisted in a grimace of resignation, Roni reached for the stack of letters Sam had brought in from the mailbox earlier and automatically sorted through them, her mind whirling, searching for alternatives and possibilities. She frowned curiously over an envelope from Cutler’s Plumbing, slit it open, then stared in disbelief at the contents.

  A note from Steve Cutler thanked her for her business and apologized for any inconvenience, then explained that her husband had made alternative arrangements. The note was clipped to a check—Roni’s personal check for the plumbing job, uncashed and marked Void.

  Her breath caught, and her throat constricted with a flash of pain that was so blinding, she nearly cried out. Dropping the check as though it scorched her fingertips, she rose from the table, feeling dazed and violated and betrayed.

  “Not even that much.” Her voice was broken, unrecognizable to her own ears. “Damn you, Sam Preston, you won’t even give me that much!”

  On the brink of shattering altogether, she reached and found a center of icy calm, closing down on a maelstrom of screaming emotions—anger, hurt, love, fear. She knew with a clarity born of the stripping away of all illusions that life was not fair, that virtue was rarely rewarded and that wishing never, ever made a thing so. Faced with that reality, stripped of choices by her husband’s unbending pride, she also knew there was only one trail left to follow.