Heartbreak Ranch: Amy's StoryJosie's StoryHarmony's StoryArabella's Story

by Chelley Kitzmiller

  Ben got to his feet. He stood at the water’s edge, arms loose at his sides. “I’ll turn my back, Harmony. You can get out. But first let me see you—”

  Before he was finished she was shaking her head side to side, wet strands of her long hair violently slapping her cheek.

  “Just...some of you,” he amended, and she heard an odd note of yearning in his voice. “Just—” his voice dropped to a husky murmur “—just your breasts. For a moment only.”

  “No,” she gasped. “No. No.”

  “I’ll never get to have you, Harmony. A poor Kawaiisu. A half-breed. I’m not good enough for you. I know that. Someday you’ll marry a rich rancher’s son. You’ll fall in love and have his babies—not mine.” His voice had taken on an unexpected gentle tone she’d never heard from him before. She stared at him, wide-eyed, somehow touched in spite of herself.

  “I want only a memory,” he went on in that same lulling tone. “Something to carry with me into the long years ahead when I’ll have to watch you take another. Have you ever wanted anything so badly you’d sell your soul to get it? Have you ever longed and pined and dreamed for something?”

  She tried to answer, but whether because of the cold or the odd, stirring emotions he was eliciting in her, she couldn’t speak.

  “Well, for me,” he murmured huskily, “it’s you. It’s always been you.”

  At the end of his speech he stood silent, hands open and empty. Beneath the brim of his black hat, his dark eyes were luminous in the waning light. Inside her cold breast, Harmony felt the warmth of his glowing eyes.

  Something inside her responded to him, something she had no understanding of, no base of reference. The world fell away and all that was left was the cool, swirling current of the creek, the golden ribbons of light flowing on its surface. And Ben.

  On the ranch, Harmony understood herself simply to be part of the whole; each animal, each building, each person had a purpose, a place, a role to be played. The rhythms of night and day, work and weather, all comprised the entity that was Heartbreak Ranch.

  Although pampered, admired, loved, Harmony knew she was merely one cog in the wheel.

  No man, however assiduously he’d courted her, had ever made her feel her life and breath were imperative to him. No man had ever looked at her with such stark need. The realization shook her to the core.

  Proud, strong, silent Ben Panau had given her a precious gift: a glimpse into the vulnerability of his soul.

  She made him vulnerable, she realized, and her wonder grew.

  Was his request, asked for so eloquently, too much to grant?

  A crazy impulse gripped her. Then she, who’d never felt the intimate touch of a man’s gaze, slowly began to rise from the water.

  “Damn your eyes, Ben Panau,” she breathed, shocked at herself even as first her shoulders, then her torso rose until she stood with the golden water pooling around her hips.

  With her hands still covering her breasts, she drew a deep, deep breath. Eyes downcast, shaking uncontrollably, she lowered her arms.

  Total silence greeted her.

  For a long, timeless moment she withstood the agonizing quiet. Finally, she raised her eyes and looked at Ben. His hands, which before had hung loose at his sides, were now clenched into tense fists. His shoulders were stiff and set, his stance rigid.

  But it was his face that arrested her.

  Even in the murky light she could see the stain of bronze color that spread over his high cheekbones. The skin of his face had gone taut, his nostrils flared, his jaw clenched. His eyes glittered with myriad jet sparkles, engulfing her in their intensity. She felt consumed.

  Her cold nipples puckered even tighter. Her breasts grew heavy, weighted. Below the water, beneath her sodden drawers, a curious warmth formed in her abdomen and spread thick, honeyed rivers down...down.

  A gust of wind blew strands of her hair against her cheek, partially obstructing her vision. But through the veil, the impressive, frightening bulge in his jeans caught her attention. She gasped.

  The sound shook him. Suddenly he jerked around, turning his back. “Get dressed,” he gritted out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CATTLE WERE DISAPPEARING from the ranch.

  A month had passed since the incident at the creek, and much to Harmony’s dismay, the Wilkersons had chosen to extend their visit. They’d decided that Harmony’s parents would appreciate their watching over their daughter while they were away.

  As the days crept by and Ben said nothing offensive, Harmony’s outrage cooled to a simmer. She vowed never to put herself in such a position again, and around him she was stiff and formal. Now that she had more important things to worry about, she resolved to try and forget.

  Old Clay was recovering slowly after a short hospital stay. He encouraged Ben and Harmony to follow their instincts in the running of the property.

  But now cattle were missing. When valuable stock disappeared from a cattle ranch, something had to be done. But every time Ben came into her field of vision, memory of his expression when he’d seen her body gripped her all over again. Even now, thinking of it, her breasts tingled.

  “Five more head gone today,” Ben reported to her grimly. He took off his hat and swiped the sweat off his forehead before resettling it. The midsummer afternoon was hot and still, with none of the normal breezes to cool off the ranch. At the corrals where Harmony took Ben’s report, dust hung suspended in the air.

  “At first I thought it might be just a couple of hungry families,” Harmony said, forcing her mind to business. “When it’s only a cow or two my father usually turns a blind eye.”

  “I know.” Ben looked at her inscrutably. Unspoken between them was the knowledge that occasionally the poor folk living in shacks on the other side of the mountain—most often Indian families—“borrowed” a fat steer. Never had the Hearts begrudged hungry people food for their table. Briefly Harmony wondered if any of Ben’s rapscallion relatives had availed themselves of free beef. Everyone knew about Ben’s drunken father, shady cousins and reprobate uncles. Not that it mattered.

  “Want to post a few outriders?” Ben suggested.

  “How many head have disappeared altogether?” she asked thoughtfully. She didn’t wish to draw the few men they had from their regular duties if it wasn’t necessary.

  “Twenty-five,” he replied. “And Julio had to put out another fire.”

  “What!” she cried in alarm. “Another fire? But the first was started by lightning, wasn’t it? We haven’t had any summer storms lately. That leaves an accident, or...deliberate arson.”

  Ben shrugged, obviously reluctant to make assumptions. “Julio happened to be riding over by the cow camp. We don’t normally go down there this time of year, but he was looking for missing calves. He found where someone camped, not a day ago. But the fire began at least fifty feet away. Julio thinks a burning branch was carried to a patch of dry brush.”

  “The cow camp?” She let out a tense breath. “It’d be a logical place for rustlers to start a fire. A big blaze over there would draw all the men—leaving the herds unattended.”

  He nodded reluctantly. “Easy pickin’s.”

  “Send two riders out each morning,” she decided, no longer in doubt. “Have them watch for anything different. Take more frequent tallies of the cattle. We can’t let this problem get away from us, Ben.”

  “It’ll be done,” he agreed.

  They fell silent. Each day he reported to her and she made decisions, always asking his advice and usually taking it. Over the past four weeks, she discovered Ben had indeed listened to Old Clay’s teachings; he never drew conclusions until all facts were in. Prudently, he thought ahead to next years’ calf crop, which old cows to cull, which pastures to prepare for good barley and alfalfa harvests. He considered the best use of the men’s time and talents, and then let them get on with their work without interference.

  She’d noticed his easy manner. He made no overt commands, but rat
her he quietly encouraged men to feel they were part of a team whose goals were the same—efficiency and prosperity for the ranch. Considering how some might feel about taking orders from a “breed,” Harmony thought this particularly clever of him.

  Watching him work, she felt her admiration grow.

  But not her trust.

  Ben waited for orders. Since she had none, she started for the barn, saying, “I’ll talk with you later.”

  The sun overhead was hotter than a branding iron, but since the incident at the creek she’d eliminated her private baths, promising herself it would be only temporary until she could figure something out. She would take no chance of allowing him any more glimpses of her naked self. Most upsetting of all, she discovered, was that each time she recalled his incredible, emotion-filled gaze as he’d looked upon her, she felt...aroused.

  Each night she thrashed her bedclothes into a tangle. Blood pulsed in unmentionable places. Never before had she had such wicked images of Ben Panau. And why him? Someday, she fully expected to fall in love and marry some local rancher’s son. A man of good family, sophistication. Someone different. Someone else.

  Her parents would surely object to her interest, however reluctant, in Ben, and their condemnation she could not bear. Always, Harmony had been a good, obedient daughter. Good, because William and Josie were strict and loving, stern and indulgent all at once. It was easy to be a model child to parents such as hers. How could she cope with their disappointment?

  Distressed by her thoughts, she told herself to get busy and jerked open the gate. As she strode across the corral, her boots sent up explosions of dust. Inside the dusty shed, she busied herself rummaging for a long strip of leather. She had to sift through a jumble of dusty halters, hackamores and bridles.

  “What are you muttering about?” Ben said from behind her.

  She jumped. “I thought you’d left. Why are you always coming up behind me? You’re going to give me heart failure.”

  He grinned, a flash of white against his bronzed skin. “Sorry.” He didn’t look the least bit sorry, she thought crossly.

  He wore his hat low over his eyes, but as a concession to the heat, instead of his felt Stetson, he’d taken to wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat. As always, his faded shirt was rolled to the elbows, and Lordy, it did fit nicely across his deep chest. His worn-soft jeans molded his muscular thighs and intimately cupped his sex.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked.

  Harmony jerked her gaze up. She felt a slow burn suffuse her cheeks until she realized what he meant.

  Averting her face, she answered, “Apache’s old bridle reins broke yesterday. I thought I’d fashion new ones. There’s got to be some pieces of leather in here somewhere.”

  Lazily he reached up. “Here you go.” Following his hand, she saw a dozen strips hanging right before her nose. She also noticed again that Ben smelled nice—not a citified soapy cologne scent, but an outdoorsy, country scent.

  Annoyed with her straying thoughts, she snatched the leather from him. “Thanks.”

  “Are you all right, Harmony?” Ben asked quietly.

  “Of course.” She held the leather tight in her hands. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He shrugged. “Your parents left you with a big responsibility, even without having to deal with fire and rustling. I want to make sure you’re eating well—sleeping good.”

  “I—certainly, I...” It was on the tip of her tongue to assure him that everything was fine, when she read genuine concern in his face. She wasn’t sleeping well. And lately food held little appeal for her. The Wilkersons were providing an additional burden. Entertaining them was a full-time chore; she’d had no idea being a good hostess could be such a strain. In recent days Harmony had acquired a new appreciation for her mother’s skills.

  Her gaze fell away from his as she fought an urge to break down and tell him her worries. She settled for an evasion. “All my life I’ve been trained to oversee the ranch.”

  “I know.”

  “Yes,” she conceded slowly, “you would. You’ve had much of the same training from Old Clay, haven’t you?”

  He nodded, waiting.

  She bit her lip, her reserve warring with the need to confide. Ben had always been there for her, always rescued her. His patient, interested expression won her over. “The truth is...I’m a little worried. There’s so much to think about, so many decisions to make. What if I neglect something, make stupid oversights or outright errors?”

  He was shaking his head before she’d finished. “Won’t happen.”

  She couldn’t help a tremulous smile. “You’re so certain.”

  “You’re an intelligent woman. As you’ve said, you’re well trained. And nobody loves this ranch more. But most of all, you’re strong-minded.”

  At his praise, her smile grew. “I guess I come from good stock. For all her quiet manners, my mother is iron-willed beneath. And my Grandmother Amy—well, she was the daughter of a San Francisco madam. They had to be strong to survive.”

  “The rumors are true?” Ben was surprised. “I thought it was all talk about the madam.”

  “No, indeed.” Harmony lifted her chin proudly. “By all accounts, Bella was quite a character. She lived...boldly.”

  He snorted. “A Barbary Coast madam? I guess so.”

  “She was much more than just a lady of the night. She won this ranch in a faro game as revenge against the man who broke her heart. And she kept a journal—a book. My mother has it somewhere. She says it’s a very special journal handed down to each Heart daughter when she needs it.” She shrugged. “Whenever that is.”

  “She sounds like a resourceful woman. Just like you. Don’t worry about the ranch—it’ll be fine.”

  She looked at him and remarked lightly, “I’ve got you to help me, right?”

  Ben’s lips curved into a smile as sultry and hot as the summer day that surrounded them. “I’m yours, Harmony. I’ve always been yours.”

  She drew a quick breath. “I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s all right, sweetheart. I know what’s inside you, the way you think, what you feel.” He made an effortless movement of his shoulders that spoke of his certainty.

  “Don’t patronize me, Ben. And don’t call me sweetheart.”

  He made no reply, merely slanted her a knowing glance, which prodded her further. “I mean it, Ben,” she warned.

  He spread his hands. “You’re the boss.”

  “That’s right. We have a business relationship, nothing more.”

  His dark eyes dropped to her mouth. Against the wall beside her head, he leaned on one hand, boxing her in. “Sure.”

  Despite herself, her heart leaped at the lambent heat in his gaze. His black eyes were like shiny charcoal stones glittering in the sun. Was he thinking about kissing her? Images of being swept into his arms burst into her mind. She swallowed hard and decided to escape the confines of the tack shed. But hastily darting by him, she felt her breasts inadvertently brush his arm.

  Her gaze flew to his face in time to catch his infuriating grin. It was as if he thought she’d done it deliberately, as if he knew the role he played in her nighttime dreams.

  The idea galled. He could not read her mind. Why did this one man have the power to send her into a frenzy? How was it he could infuriate her with merely a sly comment or arrogant twist of his mouth? She stormed to the house, her temper flaring. Stomping up the steps, she ignored a puzzled Edna Wilkerson.

  She went to her bedroom, slammed the door and sat on her bed. She needed a few minutes alone.

  It was not to be.

  A tapping sounded, and Edna’s voice called, “Harmony, dear, are you feeling poorly?”

  Sighing, Harmony rose to open the door. To her surprise, Randolf stood in the hall beside his wife. The gaunt man started right in. “That Indian foreman upset you, missy? I’ve been tellin’ you for weeks to get rid of him. William would surely be livid if he knew. Why—”

&
nbsp; “She knows your view about Indians, Randolf,” Edna interrupted. “You’ve told her often enough, so don’t go on about it. Can’t you see the poor dear is feeling ill?”

  “I feel fine,” Harmony said, guessing her high color was misleading the woman. Then she wished her words back. If Randolf thought she was sick then maybe she wouldn’t need to listen to another of his sermons. Ever since he’d discovered Ben was acting foreman, he’d been on a campaign to get Ben fired. He could expound for hours on the evils of allowing a “lowborn savage” a position of authority. “Give them a bit of power, they get impertinent and disrespectful,” he’d boomed more than once.

  How shocked they’d be, Harmony thought, if they knew of her midnight fantasies, how appalled if they knew she was wildly attracted to the half-breed foreman.

  “Randolf, you know there’s nothing to be done until William and Josie return,” Edna said. “Why, Harmony isn’t in charge here, are you dear?” She gave Harmony no chance to reply, but continued to address her husband. “You’re going to addle her brains, making her think about business matters that don’t concern her. Now, go on downstairs and read that magazine you’re forever perusing, why don’t you?”

  “I’m all right, honestly.” Harmony tried not to listen to them. They were naive, perhaps even ignorant. They didn’t realize how offensive their remarks sounded. Though their notions were often wrongheaded, they did mean well. They were only looking out for her.

  Head and shoulders thrust forward, Randolf resembled nothing so much as an aggravated stork. “I still say this is a sad state of affairs,” he grumbled. “I only hope William won’t hold me responsible, since I’m the only capable white man here.”

  In exasperation, Harmony put a palm to her forehead and felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. Maybe she was sick.

  “I’m going to get Magdalena to prepare you a nice pot of tea,” Edna soothed. “You just lie down and put a cool compress over your eyes. Your skin is looking—well, I don’t want you to become alarmed, dear—but it’s looking a bit tanned. I’ve noticed you never wear a hat, as a lady should. Perhaps you’ve had too much sun.”