by Diana Palmer
Luke stood up. “If it’s okay with you I’d like to look around the ranch. Snoop through the barn and the other buildings and take stock of what equipment you have.”
“Do whatever you think necessary.” At the sink Maris rinsed her hands and picked up a towel to dry them. “Wait a minute. There is one point we haven’t discussed.”
Luke was already on his way to the door. He stopped and turned. “What’s that?”
“Your wage. You said something about a few dollars a week. I think we should agree on the amount, don’t you?”
Luke tugged at his ear. “Well…yeah, guess we should. I was thinking about fifty a week. Is that all right with you?”
Maris’s stomach sank and her face flushed to a dark crimson. “I…can’t pay fifty a week.”
This aspect of their discussion didn’t set right with Luke. Pressuring a woman for money made him feel like a damned parasite. The only thing he really needed money for was gas for his pickup, and he probably had enough in his wallet to keep him going until the job was done.
“Let’s forget that part of the deal,” he said, wishing he hadn’t mentioned a wage at all yesterday. He’d embarrassed her by suggesting fifty bucks a week, and he realized that he didn’t like embarrassing her.
But Maris shook her head rather adamantly. “No, a deal’s a deal. I can’t pay fifty a week, but I can pay…” She hesitated, praying to God he wouldn’t be insulted by such a paltry sum. “Twenty-five.”
Luke saw the pride in her pretty golden eyes, the independence, whether natural or forced by circumstances, and he vowed on the spot to do the best job possible and pray that the sale of those horses would make things easier for her.
“Twenty-five is fine. Thanks.”
Maris breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She was putting all of her eggs in one basket by relying on Luke Rivers, and only time would prove her right or wrong.
But even if he was all brag and bluster and she ended up with only half-broken horses, would she be much worse off than she was today?
Luke gave one sharp, definitive nod of his head. “Guess that’s it then. I’ll go to work now.”
“Yes, go ahead,” Maris said faintly as he again started for the door.
This time he stopped on his own. “I have a condition, too, Maris.”
Startled, she looked at him. “What is it?”
“It’s this. I know what I’m doing with horses, and I don’t want you or anyone else interfering with my methods.”
“Oh.” His condition riled her. This was her ranch, after all, and her horses. A noticeable coolness crept into her voice. “I’m sure no one will interfere. If I knew how to do the job I wouldn’t need you at all, would I?”
“Good point. See you later.” Luke left the kitchen and went outside. The first thing he did was suck in a huge gulp of fresh air. Making a business deal with a woman was an unnerving undertaking. Walking to the barn, he remembered that he’d never worked for a woman before, other than his mother.
But then, he hadn’t worked for men very much, either. His entire life had been dedicated to rodeo, and there’d been five, six years back a ways that he was damned proud of. He’d won lots of money and earned a slew of trophies. Luke frowned. The money was gone, his mother had the trophies and thirty-five was an iffy age in the arena. He was paying the price of too many bad falls and this latest accident. Every morning he awoke with some new ache in his bones he’d fight to ignore. Some cowpokes seemed to go on forever, but most of the competitors were young, tough and full of vinegar. But what the hell else would he do if he didn’t jump back into the rodeo circuit?
Grim-lipped, he decided that he couldn’t worry about his age, or his aching bones. What the young guys lacked he had plenty of, and that crucial component was called experience. And he also had a reputation, a damned good reputation. Once he got hold of another great cutting horse, though there would probably never be another Pancho, he’d do all right. The steer-roping event had always been his specialty, and he’d rise to the top again with the right horse. He’d find the right horse in Maris’s herd, and he’d train him to perfection exactly as he’d done with Pancho.
Feeling better about his future, Luke walked into the barn.
Maris did the dishes and tidied the kitchen, moving at a snail’s pace. Ordinarily the job took no more than ten minutes; this morning she fiddled around for a good half-hour.
But the arrangement with Luke changed everything, and she kept thinking of the additional cooking, the extra food to buy and how strange it felt to have a man like Luke living on the ranch. How would he and Keith get along? How would she and Luke get along? She felt disruptive undercurrents when she was with him, odd little sensations within herself that she couldn’t pin down.
Maris stopped at the clean and shiny sink to stare out the window. What should be her chores for the day? What was Luke looking for down at the barn? Equipment, he’d said, but what sort of equipment? She should have asked, and maybe saved him some time and effort by explaining that she did or did not have what he needed.
Deciding that she could water her garden while lining out her day, she went outside to the garden area. She had just gotten started with the water hose, when she heard a vehicle approaching. It couldn’t be Keith back so soon, she thought, and turned off the spigot to walk around the house to see who was coming.
Smiling at the sight of Judd’s official black utility vehicle she continued walking to greet him as he got out. “’Morning, Judd.”
“’Morning, Maris.”
Judd was a tall, dark and mostly silent man. Since Ray’s death he had stopped in quite a few times, and Maris appreciated his thoughtfulness. Twice he had asked her out for supper and they’d eaten at the Hip Hop Café. The evenings had been pleasant diversions, and Maris recognized and admired Judd’s strong and honest outlook on life. He was everything Ray hadn’t been—a complete opposite, to be perfectly accurate. A woman could do a lot worse than to take up with Judd Hensley.
“Everything all right on the Wyler ranch?” Judd asked.
Maris laughed with some wryness. “As right as can be expected.”
But Judd, she saw, had become more interested in Luke’s pickup than in her answer and was giving it a thorough once-over. “Got company?”
“A hired man, Judd. He’s going to break the horses.”
“Anyone I know?”
“I doubt it. He’s not from Montana. Actually, he knew Ray and came here to—” Maris stopped short of blurting out the whole story. That old IOU really wasn’t anyone else’s business. “See Ray.” Maris’s voice became quieter. “He didn’t know Ray was gone.”
“Too bad,” Judd said. “Must be hard on you to tell old friends about it.” Judd was still looking at Luke’s pickup, which he was sure he’d seen in town yesterday. “What’s this guy’s name?”
“Luke Rivers. He knew Ray from the rodeo, Judd. That’s what he does ordinarily.” Maris could see Judd’s wheels turning and decided to change the subject. Her financial situation really wasn’t open for discussion, and as of this morning, Luke Rivers and her pitifully small bank account were oddly intermingled.
“Any news on that man who died at Mary Jo and Dugan’s wedding?” she asked.
“He didn’t just die, Maris. He was murdered.”
“Murdered!” Maris’s eyes got very big. “But I heard he was a stranger. Why would anyone murder a total stranger? And how come he was at the wedding in the first place? People don’t usually crash weddings.”
“All we’ve been able to discover so far is that his name was Floyd Oakley. Neither Mary Jo nor Dugan admit to inviting him to the wedding, so maybe he was just a transient looking for a free meal. We’re working on it. That makes two strangers in our little town now, doesn’t it? Floyd Oakley and Luke Rivers.”
Appalled at Judd’s implication, Maris rushed to defend Luke. “Oh, but Luke didn’t arrive until after the wedding, Judd.”
Judd cocked an eyebrow. “Ma
ybe he didn’t show his face out here right away. Maybe he’d been hanging around town for several weeks. Mind if I talk to him?”
Maris drew a nervous breath. “Well, no, of course not, but…” She couldn’t believe that Luke could be a murderer. As hard-nosed as Luke could be, the idea struck her as utterly preposterous. But Judd Hensley wasn’t a man to waltz around on a subject, either. She could see on his stern face that he was determined to talk to her new hired man. She wondered if Judd really suspected Luke, or was simply feeling protective of her and maybe even rankled at the news that a stranger was going to be living on the ranch.
“He’s in the barn, Judd. Let me run down there and get him.”
“No…let’s just walk down to the barn together,” Judd said calmly.
“Uh…fine. That’s fine.” All sorts of things ran through Maris’s mind during the short trek. Luke had come directly to the No Bull Ranch when he’d gotten to the area, hadn’t he? But what if he hadn’t? Would his presence in the area at the time of that murder automatically make him a suspect?
Uneasily she led Judd into the barn, calling “Luke? Are you in here?”
Luke stepped out of the tack room with a bridle in his hand. “Do you need me for something?” He saw the sheriff and involuntarily stiffened. “’Morning, Sheriff.”
“Judd, this is Luke Rivers. Luke, Sheriff Judd Hensley.”
They didn’t shake hands. Maris sucked in an exasperated breath. It was all too obvious that Judd and Luke weren’t going to be friends, though she wasn’t vain enough to suppose their immediate animosity had anything to do with her. It was a male thing, she thought, an instantaneous clash of personalities.
“Didn’t I see you in the Hip Hop yesterday morning?” Judd questioned evenly.
“I saw you,” Luke replied. “So guess you could have seen me, too.”
“How long you been in the area?”
“Three days. Why?” Luke looked at Maris for an explanation, but she was merely standing by and chewing on the inside of her bottom lip with a worried frown.
“You have proof of that, I suppose,” Judd said.
“Proof? Why would I need proof? I drove into Whitehorn two days ago, asked directions to Ray Wyler’s place at a gas station and came directly here. What’s this all about, Sheriff?”
“We had a little trouble around here a few weeks back. Where were you on…” Judd named the date in late June of Mary Jo and Dugan’s wedding.
Luke’s forehead creased in thought. Then his expression cleared. “I was in Denver, visiting friends.” It was the truth. After his release from the hospital, most of his recovery time had been spent in Texas. Then, with that IOU in mind, he had started working his way north to Montana. Since he’d been out of commission for nearly a year he had made several stops during the trip to see old friends.
Judd decided to believe him…for the time being. Floyd Oakley, if that was his real name, thus far seemed to be a man without a past. His wallet had been empty except for a few dollars, a snapshot of a woman and an outdated Wisconsin driver’s license. That license had provided Oakley’s name, but Judd has his suspicions about its authenticity. Of course Judd knew he was a naturally suspicious person.
Regardless, Oakley had been murdered in his jurisdiction, either by one of the wedding guests or by someone who had slipped into the group unnoticed, done his dirty deed and then slipped away again, and he intended to identify the culprit, whatever it took.
He spoke to Luke again. “Are you planning to make Whitehorn your home?”
Luke’s voice was cold and unfriendly. “This is my home, but only until Maris’s horses are broken and salable. I’ll be moving on then.”
Maris could tell that Judd didn’t like Luke calling the No Bull home. But the belligerent look on Luke’s face said rather plainly that he didn’t like Judd Hensley period. It struck her that they were squaring off right before her eyes, as stubbornly and determinedly as two bulls did in the presence of a juicy young heifer. The only elements missing were the lowered heads, snorts and the pawings of the ground.
But it was so dumb. She certainly wasn’t a juicy young heifer, not by any stretch of the imagination, and her relationship with Judd so far was only friendship. As for Luke, he couldn’t even claim that. He was her employee and that was all he would ever be.
Maris cleared her throat, loudly, hoping these two macho men would get the picture that she wasn’t very pleased with their attitudes. “Luke,” she said deliberately, “are you finding the equipment you need to get started with the horses?”
Both men shifted their weight, breaking their staredown to look at her. Judd said, “Guess I’ll be running along. You two have work to do.”
“Yes, we do,” Maris replied rather coolly.
But she walked Judd to his car. “Thanks for stopping by. You’re welcome here anytime, Judd. I hope you know that.”
Judd’s dark eyes still contained suspicion. “How well do you know Rivers? You said he was Ray’s friend, but did you know him, too, before he showed up?”
“I…knew him.” It wasn’t a total lie, Maris told herself. But she was not going to get into a long dissertation on when and how she and Luke had met. “Judd, I really don’t think he’s going to be any kind of problem.”
Judd slid into his car. “Probably not, but just to be on the safe side, I’m going to check him out, see if he has a record. Anything’s possible.”
As the sheriff’s car sped away, Maris heaved a sigh. Luke wasn’t any fugitive from the law. Maris knew it instinctively. He was just a rodeo cowboy—one who was going to break her horses and help her get out from under a load of debt. She sure didn’t need Judd chasing Luke out of town, at least not until his job was done.
Four
Luke entered the horse pasture with a coiled rope clasped in his right hand and held down around his thigh. He walked slowly, studying the horses, looking for one with a gentle disposition. Horses had personalities just as people did. Some were meaner than rat poison and never would gentle down enough for a novice rider. Others were easily trained, and that was what he wanted to start with, an animal that wouldn’t throw a fit at every step of the process.
He spotted a gray mare with good lines and a well-shaped head. She lifted her head when she became aware of Luke, and he got a clear, unobstructed look at her eyes, which were constant and calm with no white showing. Quick, darting eyes that displayed a large amount of white on a horse usually indicated a spooky, erratic animal.
Cautiously and slowly he moved closer to the mare, uncoiling the rope as he went. When she didn’t bolt and run, as the other horses had been doing if he got too close, he began talking in a quiet, soothing voice. “There’s a nice girl. Stay steady, girl. No one’s going to harm you.” The chant continued, soft and singsong, until Luke was within roping distance. He didn’t move quickly until he threw the loop, and it landed precisely where he’d aimed it, squarely over the mare’s head.
She squealed and reared in an attempt to get rid of the noose around her neck, but Luke dug in his heels, wound his end of the rope around his leather-gloved hands and hung on.
Maris was watching from outside the fence, utterly fascinated. Ray had practiced roping quite a lot, but he had never attained the expertise she had just witnessed. Luke began walking up the rope, getting closer to the mare. He was too far away for Maris to hear what he was saying, but she could tell he was talking to the horse. Gradually the mare calmed; gradually Luke got closer. When there was about six feet of rope between him and the animal, he started urging her to follow him. The mare took a step and stopped. Luke tugged lightly on the rope. “Come on, girl,” he crooned. The mare took a few more steps, and then Maris shook her head in amazement: Luke was leading the mare toward the gate in the fence!
Quickly she ran over and opened the gate. Luke and the mare passed through it and she closed it again. Luke had left the corral gate open, and he led the mare into the corral as easily as anything Maris had ever s
een. Though Luke had issued no instructions, other than for her to bring out a sack of apples, Maris closed and latched the corral gate.
“Toss me one of those apples,” Luke said softly. Maris dug one out of the sack and threw it to Luke, who caught it deftly in his left hand. Using the apple as a bribe—the mare ate it directly out of his hand—he loosened the loop around the mare’s neck and released her.
Recoiling the rope, Luke walked over to Maris. “This one’s going to be easy. Give me a couple more of those apples.” He stuck the apples in his shirt pockets, giving him the appearance of breasts and causing Maris to laugh.
Then he walked over to the section of corral rail where he’d earlier placed an old feed sack and slowly walked back to the mare. First he offered her another apple, which she willingly took from his hand, then he began tentatively and gently rubbing the sack over her neck. She turned her head, looked at him and snorted, but she stood still and let him rub her with the sack. Patiently he rubbed the sack over her hind quarters, her belly, her neck and finally her head.
“Why is she letting you do that?” Maris asked, keeping her voice down so she wouldn’t startle the mare.
“Probably because it feels good,” Luke said quietly. “Rubbing and touching is the first step to familiarity.”
Maris equated his comment to humans and flushed hotly. She hadn’t had any rubbing and touching for a long, long time. Ray had been gone so much, and during the year just prior to his death, he had seldom come near her. When he had, it had been quick and emotionless sex and she had received no pleasure from it. That mare was receiving more loving, tender, patient caresses right now than Maris Wyler had gotten in longer than she cared to remember.
And the man doing the caressing, the rubbing and the touching was truly a sight for any lonely woman’s eyes. His wide shoulders stretched the seams of a blue chambray work shirt, and then his torso tapered to a flat, firm belly. Everything below his belt was equally magnificent—his tight behind, his long, muscular thighs. Oh, God, Maris thought frantically. Am I having a sexual fantasy in broad daylight? And about Luke Rivers?