"Of course you can't. I just think that a little gentle deception might be a better strategy than a direct attack."
"I suppose. And I admit I can't see myself roping and hog-tying him like a calf at the rodeo." Genny sighed and moved the telephone to the other ear. Anything, even trickery, was better than doing nothing at all. "If only he would listen to reason."
Sophie's sigh was an echo. "Even Pancho agrees that is not an option. And I can't think of anything else to do."
"Neither can I, Sophie. Neither can I." Genny knew she was playing with fire. She was either going to get everything her heart desired, or she was going to be so badly burned she might never recover.
* * * *
"Is that him?" Aaron sounded worried.
"That's him." Genny feasted her eyes on Rock, three rows ahead and just to her left. She'd seen the three from the Rock and Rye as soon as they walked down the aisle, Rock's height catching her attention even before she spied Sophie in the gold lame blouse that her aunt had promised she'd wear. Rock didn't look good. There were circles under his eyes and the lines around his mouth were grim.
"I don't know if I'm ready for this," Aaron protested. "Doing a favor for a friend is one thing, Genny, but I get the feeling I'm being set up for disaster."
She couldn't help laughing. Aaron Kozic was as big as Rock and easily as tough. He'd survived the streets of inner Boston as a child, probably learning tricks of dirty fighting that a nice, clean-cut cowboy like Rock never heard of. She patted his hand. "Don't worry. I doubt it'll come to outright war." Tonight she was filled with incurable optimism.
"Why don't I believe you?" Aaron said, looking skeptical.
Genny just grinned, because the lights were dimming and the crowd growing quiet. She relaxed, determined to enjoy the concert and not think about Rock McConnell and her aunt's campaign to convince him he couldn't live without her.
"They better have the best pie west of the Mississippi," Aaron warned a bit over two hours later. He turned into the restaurant parking lot beside Sophie's new minivan. "I have a feeling the condemned man is about to eat his last meal."
"Oh, pooh," Genny said. "All you have to do is act as if I'm the sweetest thing to come down the pike. It's not as if you have to leer or anything."
"Oi vey!" Aaron threw his hands into the air. "What will my poor Anna say when she is a widow so young?"
Genny couldn't help the giggles that spilled from her lips. "Stop it, Aaron! You know Anna thinks this is a great idea."
"She hasn't seen the Rock." His expression was lugubrious.
Doubt again struck Genny. "You don't have to do this. I'm probably crazy to even consider it."
He reached across and patted her knee. "Relax, Forsythe. I'll stop with the leg pulling." Releasing his seat belt, he opened the door. "Shall we, madam? Let the farce begin."
Genny swallowed hard. Was she about to make an enormous mistake?
Rock glowered when she and Aaron joined him and Sophie and Pancho in a booth by the window. She didn't hear two words from him throughout the hour and more they sat in the bright cafe, drinking coffee and discussing the dazzling piano artistry they'd just experienced. Albertson College sponsored a visiting artist program every year and this evening's appearance by sisters famous for their duets was the season's opener.
Her participation in the general conversation was limited to monosyllabic responses to questions, brilliant smiles at Aaron whenever he spoke to her, and surreptitious glances at Rock from under her lashes. Whenever she felt his glare, she grew hot with desire, cold with dread that she would lose him. When he wasn't looking at her, she felt shaky with fear that he didn't care for her, that her plan would fail because Rock really didn't need her in his life.
Aaron was answering Pancho's questions. "I guess what pulled Genny and me together in college was our mutual fascination with the West. We lost touch when I went to Montana for graduate school and she went to Harvard."
Darn! She hadn't told Rock where she'd done her graduate work. Now he really would think she didn't belong in Owyhee Country.
"Yes, it was a real surprise to find Genny nearby when I arrived in Boise. But we soon picked up where we'd left off."
She had to admire Aaron's storytelling ability. He hadn't said anything untrue, for they had resumed their friendship as if there had been no years of separation. It was just his expression, his touching her hand, that implied their relationship was warmer than it was. Much warmer.
Sophie said something. Genny wasn't sure what, but it caused Rock's already tightly set mouth become even more firm.
"I wish we could," Aaron replied, "but we're going to spend the day house hunting." His smile at Genny was as fatuous and as revealing as she could have asked for.
"Let's go!" Rock was on his feet, tossing money on the table. "It's a long drive, and tomorrow mornin' comes real early."
Sophie smiled at Genny and Pancho winked before they obediently followed Rock out of the cafe.
"Whew! For a minute there, I though I was dog food," Aaron said, sliding down until his head could rest on the back of the bench. "Now I know what it feels like to have someone stare daggers at me."
Genny patted his hand. "You did just fine," she told him. "He's mad as hops."
"I just hope we didn't overdo it. He acted more like a jealous lover than a man who sees his last hope for happiness slipping through his fingers." Aaron added to the loose cash on the table. "Do you want me to drive?"
Genny drove Aaron to his home south of Nampa, then headed west. She worried about Aaron's words all the way back to Vale. She wanted Rock to miss her because he loved her, not because he didn't want her belonging to another man.
Chapter Twelve
Rock waited impatiently while Pancho took the mail inside. He wanted to get on the road to Boise, but Pancho had to ride as far as Homedale with him, to pick up the truck they'd taken in for an engine overhaul. They'd need it next week, when they started bringing stock down from the high country.
He couldn't believe it was almost October already. Maybe it was true, that time flew when you were having fun.
And he had had fun. This past summer had been the best he could remember, even though he'd known all along that it couldn't last.
He'd read a poem long ago, when he was in college. "Jenny kiss'd me..." it said, then "something...something...say I'm growing old but add, Jenny kiss'd me."
He knew now what the poet had meant, that he'd snubbed time because of Jenny's kiss. Genny had kissed Rock, and he would never be the same.
Pancho climbed into the pickup. "Sophie says Genny and Aaron found a house."
Rock turned the air blue with his swearing before he got himself in hand about ten miles up the road. After that he didn't say a word all the way to Homedale.
But he thought. He thought a lot about Genny in his arms. Genny in his house. Genny in his bed.
"Have a good trip," Pancho said as he got out.
"Yeah." Rock pulled out into the street, still thinking about Genny. She wasn't a tenderfoot any longer. Genny wasn't a city girl, as he'd first figured, and she wasn't even a typical Easterner. But damn it, she was a Harvard graduate.
He was just a cowboy from Owyhee Country.
She fit right in with his friends, at the Daniels' party and at the barbecue for Sophie and Pancho. So had her people, for that matter, except maybe her mother. Mrs. Forsythe had seemed nervous all day, as if she expected to see a herd of stampeding buffalo pour over the nearest hill any minute.
The whole Forsythe family had turned out to be plain folks, a lot like the ranchers in Owyhee Country. Self-reliant, independent, friendly without being stuck-up.
He'd liked them, in spite of himself. He'd even liked Genny's brothers, despite their taking him out behind the barn and telling him, explicitly, what they'd do to his manhood if he harmed so much as a hair on their little sister's head.
Now he understood why she got her hackles up whenever he got a little pushy. Gen
ny was one who'd have to be managed with a gentle hand, because she'd been rough broke and was a little touchy about it.
She had done her best for him, too. Just yesterday he'd heard from Dan Walters, that he could go ahead with the dam down in the Shinbone. The Ainsworths hadn't turned up any evidence of aboriginal use in the Shinbone, although the Armbone had been a significant find. Dan said the paper Genny would write with the Ainsworths would be a feather in her professional cap.
Dan hadn't been able to resist telling him that if Genny hadn't persuaded the Ainsworths to come in this summer, it might have been several years before he got a go-ahead on the dam.
So he owed her. Maybe he'd send her a bouquet when he got back from the Stockmen's Association meeting in Cheyenne. Or he'd just wait and buy her and Aaron a fancy silver platter or something as a housewarming present.
Damn!
It sure as shootin' hadn't taken her long to get him out of her system. The party for Sophie and Pancho had been just a little over a month ago and here she was ready to move in with somebody else.
He'd been sure she loved him.
"Yeah, well, Selma supposedly loved Pa, too," he told the steering wheel, "and look what she did to him."
I am not Selma! Those had been the last words Genny had spoken to him.
Somehow that night of the party she'd managed to avoid him entirely while they were all cleaning up the place. While he'd been picking litter up outdoors, she was washing dishes. And when he went inside to run the vacuum in the parlor, he'd found it was all done. With her family's help, they'd slicked up his place in jig time. Then they'd all climbed into their vans and gone back to Vale.
He hadn't seen a single Forsythe the rest of that week. Not even the only one who mattered.
I am not Selma.
She surely wasn't. Genny might have silver hair, but it grew naturally, not from a bottle. Her nails might be long and painted, but they were just about the prettiest things he'd ever seen, giving her slim hands an appealing grace and fragility. And she knew how to use them to make him feel sensations he'd never dreamed of.
He couldn't imagine Selma stopping for a stranded motorist alongside the highway.
It'd almost stopped his heart when he'd seen Genny climbing that cliff, risking her life for a couple of foolish tourists.
Selma had always insisted on having her parties catered.
Genny had thrown herself into preparations for the party honoring Pancho and Sophie with enthusiasm. He'd had a hell of a time persuading her to let Lizzie do the cleaning, to let Pancho do some of the cooking.
Every one of his neighbors asked about Genny each time he encountered them. Just yesterday Mrs. Lehenbauer had stopped to visit while he was loading Brandy into the trailer at Rockville.
"When are you gonna bring that nice Genny out for coffee and cake, Rock? She wanted to have a look at some of my quilts."
"I'm afraid we're not seeing each other these days, ma'am," he'd told her. "I doubt she'd go anywhere with me."
"Pshaw! Just a lover's spat. You apologize for whatever you done wrong and everything'll be just dandy." The old woman had winked and driven off in her 1947 Dodge pickup. Rock stared after her, wondering why everyone assumed he'd driven Genny away.
By the time he reached Caldwell, he'd made up his mind. Instead of turning east on the freeway, he turned west, bound for Vale. There would be another Stockmen's Association meeting next year, but he might never get another chance to live happily ever after.
* * * *
The pickup was parked beside her van as if it had every right to be there. The man sprawled across the stairs to her apartment seemed equally at home.
Genny stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked upward. "Anything I can do for you?"
"Yep."
She waited. Slowly he rose to his feet and came down to meet her. With one hand he lifted her bike, with the other he motioned for her to proceed him up the stairs. She swallowed nervously. What did he want?
Once inside, Rock set the bike in its usual place beside the refrigerator, then walked into the living room. Genny followed him, not sure she should turn and run instead of waiting to see what he wanted.
"You're not gonna live with that Aaron fella."
Sophie's plan had worked! "No," she agreed.
"If you live anywhere but here, it's gonna be at the Rock and Rye."
"That's too far to commute," she said, the beginnings of joy bubbling up inside.
"You can stay here through the week durin' the winter," he said, "until you're pregnant. You'll be quittin' your job then."
"I will not!"
"Oh, yes you will, darlin'. No wife of mine is gonna drive near a hundred miles of lonely road when she's in the family way. It ain't safe."
Genny's knees grew weak and wobbly. "Wife?" The word came out little more than a whisper.
Rock towered over her. "Ah, gee, Genny. I'm doin' exactly what I swore not to. Can I start over?"
She nodded, afraid that a spoken word would break the spell.
"I love you, Genille Enderby Forsythe. I want you to be my wife."
Sweet relief flooded through her. She'd won! "And I love you, you big, arrogant, rude, crude cowboy. God help me, I love you so much, I..."
His mouth swallowed the rest of her words. A delicious eternity later, he pulled away, leaving her wanting more. "Pack a bag. I'll call Dan." He released her so suddenly she almost collapsed.
"Huh?"
"We're going to Elko, darlin'. I figure we can be married in less than six hours. But there's no way I can get you back here in time for work tomorrow." He picked up the phone, started dialing.
"Wait just one darn minute there, Rock McConnell!" She had exactly what she wanted, but she couldn't accept it. Not this way.
He turned and looked at her, puzzlement raising his brows.
"I haven't said I'd marry you."
"Sure you did."
"No, I didn't. I said I love you. And I do. But I'm not sure I want to marry you."
"We're not livin' together unless we're married. And you're coming home with me."
"No, I'm not, unless we can agree on a few things."
"Like what?"
"Like you're not my father, you're not my boss, and you're not my conscience. I'm a big girl, Rock, and I can make my own decisions. I can even, despite what a tough cowboy from Owyhee Country might want to believe, take care of myself."
She walked to the end of the living room, looked out over the narrow street into the park beyond. "When I went to graduate school--over the objections of my family, you understand--I vowed that I'd never let anyone make decisions for me again. I'd had enough of that, being the youngest, being Avery's, Carlyle's and Ev's baby sister, being the only granddaughter."
Her soft chuckle was bitter, even to her ears. "Do you know I wasn't allowed on a horse until I was nine, even though we bred Morgans? I never owned a pair of blue jeans until I bought my own, when I was old enough to baby-sit for my cousin Evelyn. Even Sophie wouldn't do that for me, although I owe her thanks for setting me an example of female independence."
She spun around, saw he was still standing across the room where she'd left him. "If my folks had had their way, I'd have been passive and proper. I'd have been a school teacher in New Hampshire, married a proper man, raised proper children. Spent my holidays in Boston, doing the museums.
"I'd never have crossed the Mississippi, never hung my feet over the rim of the Grand Canyon at dawn, never watched the sun set into the Pacific Ocean. I would never have participated in an Anasazi dig in New Mexico, explored the serpentine mounds in Ohio, or ridden a helicopter into Skeleton Gulch with a sexy cowboy whose eyes scorched me wherever they touched."
He took a step toward her, his eyes as full of hot promise as they'd been that other day. Genny held up a hand, halting him. "Rock, I'm afraid to marry you. Afraid that I'll end up being exactly what I would have if I hadn't escaped the shelter of my family. The only difference would
be the location. Owyhee Country instead of New England."
"Hell and damnation!" His words were soft but they carried across the small room.
Genny waited.
"I figured it all out, darlin'," he said, his voice shaking. "I knew you didn't like bein' pushed around, knew it's how your brothers and your pa handled you. Sophie told me some, and I saw the rest when your folks were here. Your ma wanted you to be like her, and I guess that's not so bad, but you're more like Sophie."
Somehow he'd crossed the room without her knowing it. His arms were around her. "You're feisty, independent, stubborn, and just plain hard to get along with. I think that's what I love most about you."
He swung her off her feet, up against his chest. His words vibrated against her as he carried her into her bedroom. "I honestly meant to ask you, Genny. I'll grovel, if that's what it takes. Just tell me you'll marry me. I'm so damn tired of bein' alone." He lowered her onto the bed and lay beside her. His hands were busy with her shirt until she stopped them, held them tightly.
"You're asking?"
"I'm beggin'." He bent his head until his lips were scant millimeters from hers.
"If you're lonely," she said, avoiding his eyes, "you could buy a dog." She wasn't ready to give him her entire trust.
"Genny!" Levering himself up onto his elbows, he loomed over her. "I'll try, darlin'. I'll do my dam'dest to let you live your own life, as long as you do it along with me."
She stared, trying to see past the love, beyond the desire. "I believe you'll try, Rock, but that may not be enough. There will be times when I set my heels and we just can't reach a compromise."
Humor gleamed in his eyes. "We won't be bored, will we?" He chuckled. "Please, marry me, Genny. Pretty please."
"And you won't insist I quit my job."
"When you're pregnant, ask me again."
"Rock!"
"I won't insist. I promise."
"Well, then..." She looked him straight in the eye and frowned.
He waited, his heart threatening to stop.
Her lips twitched, but she didn't quite smile. "Yes."
Never the Twain Page 17