Never the Twain

by Judith B. Glad

  "You seemed so far away," she said in a near-whisper. "As if you wanted to have nothing more to do with me."

  I shouldn't have anything more to do with you, darlin'.... The words echoed in his mind, but he couldn't say them. He knew that now, his hunger for her satisfied, he should walk away from Genny Forsythe, before he found himself caught in the same cleft stick his Pa had. The same one Pancho seemed threatened by.

  He couldn't. Not if his life depended on it.

  He slipped an arm around her waist, again resisting the sense of rightness. "Your hair looks fine. Shall we see if there's any dinner left for us?" He couldn't help grinning. She surely had made him a satisfied man.

  "Sounds good to me." She matched him, step for step, all the way back to the old barn.

  No one said a suggestive word to her. Genny couldn't believe it. Oh, some of the women, particularly the younger ones, gave her curious looks when she and Rock walked into the old barn. But she heard not a single comment on the state of her hair or clothing.

  Of course, Rock fared not so well. The other cowboys were merciless.

  "Don't you know you're s'posed to eat yore supper before you get dessert, McConnell?"

  "Trust Rock to hog the gazebo, so's none of the rest of us can have our turns."

  "Slowin' down in your old age, huh, Rock? It used to take you about half as long, back when you was a youngster."

  "Which one of the posts was it you was carvin' on, McConnell? I fergit, and I wouldn't want to mix up your notches with mine."

  At that remark, Genny deserted her half-eaten food and ran for the restroom.

  "Oh, no!" she wailed, seeing herself in the mirror. Even if Rock hadn't entered the barn with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, their amorous activities were written clearly across her face.

  Application of cold compresses for about five minutes lessened the pinkness of her cheeks and reduced the swelling in her lower lip. Nothing would disguise the mark on her neck, where Rock's questing mouth had pulled blood to the surface of her fragile skin. She'd be willing to bet that there were half a dozen more love-bites across her chest and midriff. Her face heated at the memory of their placement.

  Several deep breaths helped her gather her courage. She walked across the empty dance floor to the table where Rock sat, sure she was the center of attention, at least among the gossips. He was waiting for her, his mouth in a grim line, his eyes flashing fire. Several of the young cowboys who'd been ribbing him were sitting self-consciously silent in their places.

  She hoped he hadn't created a scene.

  "Are you ready to go?" he asked, before she was seated.

  "I haven't had any dessert," she said, pushing her half-full plate aside. She wasn't really hungry anyway, but she'd be darned if she'd run away in shame.

  "Get it."

  Genny didn't take well to being snapped at--she'd been pushed around far too often as a youngster. As an adult, she was choosy about who ordered her around, and she didn't choose an arrogant cowboy who had no business doing so in the first place.

  She strolled to the buffet table and took her time choosing dessert. Small portions of each of the three delicious-looking chocolate cakes, a sliver of some kind of fruit-topped cheesecake, and a spoonful of peach cobbler. She looked longingly at the bread pudding and the raspberry trifle, but resisted. Not so the homemade ice cream. Mrs. Daniels served her from the can, congratulating her that she managed to get some before it disappeared.

  "This is the last of the four batches we froze this morning," she said. "And the best, if I do say so myself." She licked her finger.

  Genny tasted it. Darker than most commercial ice creams, it was richly, decadently chocolate. "Delicious," she sighed.

  "Thanks. Miss Forsythe..." the other woman began.

  "Yes?"

  "Look, don't let the fellows' kidding get to you. They all like Rock, and most of them are happy to see him dating again. They didn't mean any harm, really."

  Genny laughed. "They reminded me of some of my cousins. Nothing's sacred, is it?"

  "Not a thing." Carol Daniels winked. "But sometimes they do back a fellow into a corner. Ask Rock what he's going to do next Saturday."

  "Is this a joke of some sort?" Genny said, wondering at the laughter hiding in Mrs. Daniels' voice.

  "Just ask him." She turned aside to offer ice cream to an elderly gentleman and his grandson.

  Genny was consumed with curiosity, but she didn't ask. Rock's mood at the table wasn't conducive to impertinent questions.

  Later, she forgot, until he reminded her.

  "What are you doing Saturday?" Rock said as he helped her from his pickup.

  "Isn't that the Vale Rodeo?"

  "It starts then, yes. Do you want to go?" He took her arm to escort her up the stairs to her back door. "It's usually pretty wild."

  He sounded almost as if he was trying to discourage her. Not that she'd let him. She'd been looking forward to that particular rodeo for months, ever since she first heard about it.

  "It sounds wonderful. Dan was telling me about it. Those people who risk their lives on bucking broncos and Brahma bulls have got to be some of the bravest men in the world. And do people really race across the river and up the butte, on horseback?"

  "Yeah." Abruptly he swung her around and pulled her into his arms. "Look, Genny, I'm gonna be pretty busy this week. Don't expect to hear from me, okay?"

  Since she hadn't been in the habit of hearing from him during the previous weeks, Genny hadn't expected anything to be different now. But maybe he was trying to be thoughtful.

  "And I don't know if I'm gonna be able to be with you at the rodeo, either. I might be, uh...tied up."

  "That's all right, Rock. Sophie and I were planning to go with some of the people from work."

  "Good. Then you won't miss me." He bent to take her mouth in a bruising kiss. Before she could do more than inhale sharply, he had released her and was running down the steps.

  "Good night," she called to his retreating back. "Thanks for..." Thanks for everything, her mind concluded as he slammed into his pickup. Thanks for taking the most I had to offer you, using it, and tossing it aside. She had been hiding from the knowledge ever since...since just after they'd made love. There was no more hiding. He'd got what he'd wanted and now he was through with her. Her mother had warned her, years ago, about men like him. About what happens to girls who were easy.

  No one was easier than she had been today.

  * * * *

  Rock pulled his old Stetson lower on his forehead and looked across the field. Horse trailers, pickups, stock trucks, and even a semi or two were parked in no particular order. Between and among them, dozens of cowboys, and even a few cowgirls, were milling, checking cinches, calling back and forth, and generally creating chaos. In a few minutes, contestants would be called for the race, which was the high point of the Vale rodeo.

  "Are you sure you want to do this, Rock?" Pancho looked worried. "You have not ridden this race for many years."

  Too many, Rock admitted to himself. And back then he'd been too young and too dumb to know what he was getting himself into. All he'd seen was the excitement and the danger. That was what he'd wanted, at seventeen. What did he want at twice seventeen?

  Pancho checked Tequila's saddle for the tenth or so time. "You have not yet told me why you are doing this crazy thing."

  "I want to, okay? Now shut up."

  "You shut up, Rock, if you can't be nice to an old man who cares what happens to your fool neck." Brad Shotwell, his foreman, had been around the Rock and Rye almost as long as Rock had, and sometimes he still acted like Rock was a snot-nosed kid, with more muscles than brains.

  Maybe he was. Brad wasn't getting set to break his fool neck on a dare, showing off for a fancy piece of fluff who thought rodeo riders were glamorous and sexy.

  "Mount up, Rock." Brad held Tequila's stirrup. Once Rock was in the saddle, both he and Pancho checked everything still another time. "Are you
sure...?"

  "Yeah, I'm sure," Rock growled. "Back off, Brad. You ain't my pa."

  "If I was, I'd tan your hide," his foreman answered, as Rock spurred Tequila toward the starting line.

  From then on, it was all a blur. He remembered, later, seeing the ground rushing by under the big stallion's feet and he remembered the water splashing up in sheets when he hit the Malheur River. He'd gained ground then, thanks to Tequila. The Appaloosa was half fish, Rock believed, and would tackle any body of water with enthusiasm.

  He fell behind on the upper slopes of the butte, not wanting to risk Tequila on the rocky hillside. But he made it to the top, and down the other side, in one piece. Better yet, his horse was still in one piece. About a hundred yards into the race, he'd realized just what he was risking, all for the sake of impressing a woman. Tequila was one of his two best stallions, worth thousands at stud. One foot in a gopher hole or a collision with another horse, and he'd be dog food. With that sobering thought, Rock dropped to the back of the lead pack, although he held his own with the more open group of riders doing this for fun and not for glory or prizes.

  Genny was waiting when he crossed the finish line. The excitement and fear on her face made it all worthwhile. He felt ten feet tall and covered with hair.

  He'd hardly dismounted when she was in his arms. "Oh, Rock, I was so scared. And when those horses fell, up by the top, I just knew it was you. I had visions of you getting carried down the mountain on a stretcher."

  All the while she was jabbering breathlessly, her hands were patting him all over, making sure he was all in one piece. He liked the sensation. Nobody had ever worried about his hide before, not since Ma had died.

  "You really are all right?"

  "I'm fine, darlin'. Let's get out of this crowd." Taking her arm and signaling to Pancho and Brad with a jerk of his chin, he led Tequila and his entourage through the excited crowd.

  "Trailer's over there," Brad said, pointing. "I'll take care of the horse. If there's anything left of him."

  "Walk him," Rock ordered. "He's pretty warm."

  "When I need your advice about livestock, boy, I'll ask for it."

  Hoo man! Brad was still pissed off. Rock watched him lead Tequila away, talking softly to the lathered horse. He would, Rock knew, check over every inch of Tequila's spotted hide before pronouncing him uninjured.

  "You do not look the worse for wear, Rock, so I will take myself off." Pancho seemed to be looking for someone in the crowd. Fine. Great. Rock found Genny a lot better company than either of his two hands, anyhow.

  "Sure. See you later, at the dance?"

  "I do not think so. Perhaps tomorrow." His voice noncommittal, his attention elsewhere, Pancho departed, leaving Rock alone with an armful of sexy, turned-on woman.

  At least he hoped she was turned-on. It had been his experience that nothing excited a woman more than seeing a man risk life and limb. That was what had led him into accepting the fellas' challenge at the Daniels' barbecue.

  "Now that they're gone, Rock, I want to talk to you."

  He turned his attention to Genny, unable to see, through the crowd, where Pancho had gone. Rock felt irrationally deserted, for his cook and he had always done the Vale rodeo together, ever since he was a kid, participating in the junior events. "Talk away, darlin'. Looks like I'm all yours."

  "I'm not sure I want a crazy man. What ever possessed you to ride that race, Rock? Pancho said you hadn't done it since you were a boy, that you hadn't done any preparation for it. He said you're out of condition for that kind of riding. He said..." Her voice broke. "He said you could break your fool neck."

  How about this! She wasn't just turned on, she really had been scared for him. "Did it matter to you?" He took her face between his hands and tilted it up so he could look deep into her eyes. "Would you have cared, if I'd been hurt."

  "I'd have killed you!" she spat. "Pancho and Brad said you were just doing it to impress me. Well, let me tell you, Mr. Cowboy McConnell, I'm not impressed by idiocy. And I hate the sight of blood."

  "You cared," he said in satisfaction. For some indefinable reason, he was deeply touched. She might be as out of place in his life as a pansy in a potato field, but it still warmed his heart to know she had cared more about his worthless hide than about the thrill of seeing him risk his life.

  "All I cared about was that expensive horse you were risking," she said with some heat. "Don't flatter yourself."

  Even as she denied her concern, her arms were sliding around his waist and her hands were tightening on his shirt. She melted against him, and Rock saw the sheen of tears in her brown eyes before she closed them.

  He rested his cheek against her head, feeling content, exhausted, cherished. She might not be good for him, but she sure did make him feel good.

  They stood together, an obstruction in the crowd's flow, for a long time. Genny drew reassurance from his strong arms about her, from his head resting against hers.

  She was probably making a tactical mistake, admitting just how frightened she had been. No one gets that concerned over the safety of a casual acquaintance. Of course, after last Sunday, Rock was no longer a casual acquaintance, was he? Part of her belonged to him forevermore, just as she had something of him she would never lose.

  Genny still wondered why she didn't have any regrets. Quite the opposite, in fact. She felt like she was wearing a silly grin every time she thought about the rapture she'd found with this big, arrogant cowboy. Far, far beyond her most erotic fantasies, she had experienced sensations and emotions she had never imagined possible. If only she could make herself believe he had been moved as much as she.

  Rock's sudden emotional withdrawal, coming almost as soon as he'd withdrawn physically, had hurt. Hurt badly. It almost seemed as if he were trying to protect himself from caring, from admitting they had shared anything more than sex.

  And she knew they had! His sweet murmurings had told her that. She still shivered when she remembered how he had called her his sweet darlin', his fiery lady, his little love. She couldn't--wouldn't--believe he would say those words to just any woman, even in the throes of passion.

  "Just how bad do you want to see the rodeo, darlin'," Rock said, tightening his embrace. She had been conscious of his growing arousal for quite a while, and had enjoyed the implications.

  On the other hand, no need to keep on being easy. "I've looked forward to it ever since I came to Vale." She relaxed her arms, but was unable to pull away from him. "Everyone says it's one of the wildest rodeo's around."

  "That's 'roh-dee-oooh', little lady. Not 'ro-day-oh' You sound like a city dude."

  Now what had she said to bring the bite back into his voice. Surely her pronunciation couldn't anger him? "Just a simple country girl," she contradicted, determined to ignore his bad temper. "But I could be distracted from the rodeo," she imitated his drawl, "given the right inducement."

  He moved his hips against her. "How does an afternoon of lovin' sound?" His hands slipped lower, briefly cupping her bottom. "We could go out to the ranch--most ever'body's in town here, or in Jordan Valley--and not have to worry about gettin' interrupted."

  God help her, she wanted to, more than she could remember wanting anything before in her entire life. "I can't, Rock. Sophie is waiting for me, over in the grandstand. We'd planned..."

  He released her so suddenly she almost fell. Grabbing her hand, he headed toward the stands surrounding the arena. "Let's go talk to her."

  "Rock, wait!" She stumbled. "Don't walk so fast." But she was pulled along in his wake, half trotting.

  "Where is she?"

  "She said she'd be with Brenda and her family, but in this crowd, I don't see how..." She was craning her neck, trying to see her aunt's outrageous bonnet among a thousand or so western hats. Surely a white straw derby with a curled yellow ostrich feather would stand out, wouldn't it?

  She heard her name called and looked up into the grandstand. It was Brenda, waving frantically. "Wait a minute,
Rock. Here they are." But where was Sophie?

  "Boy, I'm glad I saw you," Brenda said, as soon as Genny and Rock reached them. "I was afraid you wouldn't get here until after things got started." She handed Genny a square of folded paper.

  "What's this?"

  "It's from your aunt. She came up here a little while ago and asked me to give it to you. She said she'd found something far more interesting to do this afternoon than watch men trying to prove how tough they are." Brenda giggled, and Genny could almost heard Sophie's elegant voice speaking those exact words.

  Quickly Genny read the note. All it said was that Sophie had been offered an opportunity for sightseeing, this afternoon. She wouldn't be back until late. Sophie had her own key and Genny was not to worry about her.

  Rock was reading over her shoulder. He ran one finger down her spine, reminding Genny of his invitation. "Now you don't have any reason to stay," he murmured in her ear, too quietly for Brenda to hear. "Come with me, Genny, darlin'. I want you."

  "We've been saving you a seat, Genny. If we scooch real close, there's room for your friend, too," Brenda said.

  Genny looked out at the arena, soon to be filled with excitement and, as Sophie had said, men trying to prove their toughness. She felt Rock's warm breath at her nape, his finger tracing her spine. "I think, I'll pass, Brenda. I've got a chance to see some of the Owyhee Country and that sounds more appealing today than sitting in this hot sun."

  "But you've been looking forward..." Brenda hushed as her husband nudged her in the side and said something too low for Genny to hear. "Oh, yeah. Sure, Genny, you go on and take your tour. There's always another rodeo."

  Rock's satisfied chuckle almost made her change her mind again. "I'll see you at work Monday," she told her friend, "and you can tell me all about today."

  * * * *

  "Just because I'm going with you, Rock, you don't need to believe that today will be a repeat of last Sunday. I won't deny that I want you, but I'm a big girl now, and I don't always give in to my itches," Genny said, as soon as they were in his pickup and headed southeast.