Cry Mercy, Cry Love

by Monica Barrie

  “I do. However, your old foreman sold off the two best breeders when he tried to raise the money to keep things going. We need another good stud, maybe two. That and enough money to keep the boys happy,” Reid finished.

  “Hank said we had enough good breeders,” Heather said, defending the old foreman pointlessly. Numbed from the shock of Reid’s assessment; she realized she had been betrayed by Hank Thompson, deceived and hurt.

  “I’m sure he thought you did, but he was wrong. Heather, you can’t change the past. I’ve checked on a lot of things, and what I found was your father was the real foreman here. Thompson only carried out his orders. The man never made a decision on his own because he was too afraid of the consequences. Your father knew so, but also appreciated Thompson’s strong points. That was why he kept him on. Now, my job, and yours, is very simple. We must rebuild the ranch. We’re on our way, and the foundation will lend you the money at a low interest rate. My advice, as your foreman and general manager, is to take the loan.”

  “Thank you, Reid,” Heather said as she turned to face him. She could feel the heat of his body reach out to her. She longed to be in his strong arms. Without realizing it, Heather raised one hand to Reid’s face. She traced his jawline, feeling again the strength under the skin. Her fingers lingered for a moment before she withdrew her hand.

  “Thank you,” she repeated. Turning from him, Heather began her lonely walk back to the house.

  As she neared the front steps, Reid saw Polaris emerge from the night to walk beside his mistress. He stood there, silently watching Heather disappear into the house.

  Reid had decided, during dinner, he would not hide the ranch’s financial condition from Heather. Everyone had been doing so for the last year, trying to protect her from the knowledge that the Strand Ranch was almost bankrupt. Tom, with his past banking experience, Emma, and even a few of the regular ranch hands knew what was happening. Each had contributed whatever they could to keep the ranch alive. Tonight though, he knew if he was going to help her and the ranch, he had to make Heather aware of the true situation.

  The New Life Foundation was a small organization, relatively unknown, and one that maintained a low profile: an organization helping both the surviving veterans of the Vietnam War and the children of the refugees driven from their homeland. Reid knew the foundation would loan the Strand Ranch the money it needed in exchange for the use of the land and the training that the ranch’s cowboys would give their own employees. It would be a good business decision for Heather Strand and the right move for the people who needed the ranch property.

  Reid continued to watch the main house, leaning against the corral fence until each light in the house extinguished. He smiled as he walked back to his own quarters. Heather had no need for light at night, and he’d once asked her why she used them.

  “It makes the other people on the ranch feel good to see lights on in the main house,” she’d told him simply.

  Quite the lady, Reid Hunter thought.

  SIX

  Heather could hear everything. Every sound the house made was usually an old friend to her. Tonight, as she tried to sleep, her old friends seemed to be conspiring against her. The breeze coming through the opened living room window pushed the drapes against the window frame, and even though it hardly made a sound, to Heather’s ears it was loud.

  Each time she shifted on the large bed, searching for a comfortable position, she became even more restless. With a sigh, Heather sat up and leaned against the headboard. Reaching onto the night table, Heather felt for the book that was there. With another sigh, she opened the book at her place mark and began to read. The raised characters of the braille alphabet were soothing against the sensitive tips of her fingers, but the words themselves were disjointed and meaningless.

  Slamming the book closed, Heather shook her head.

  She knew what was wrong, but she did not know what she could do about it. He was so...so much a cowboy, she thought angrily.

  Heather reached for her watch and read the time. Although it was one in the morning, she left the bed and slipped on a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. After putting on her boots, she heard Polaris follow her.

  “Stay,” she commanded him as she left the house.

  After Heather had left Reid, she’d thought about what he’d said. She knew he’d been speaking the truth about the state of the ranch and knew that unless something happened soon she would lose it. Heather almost laughed, remembering the cartoons she’d listened to when she was a child, about the bad men who tried to steal the ranch from the helpless heroine.

  Only this wasn’t a cartoon. It was real, and she could do something about it. She and Reid. Walking slowly from the main house, she made her decision.

  Heather knew every inch of this part of the ranch as well as she knew her studio. But she was surprised when she found herself, unplanned, at the steps that led to Reid’s front door.

  As on most ranches, the foreman and several of the men who lived with their families had small houses. The rest of the men lived in the traditional bunkhouses. Now, after climbing the steps to the porch and standing at Reid’s door, Heather hesitated for a moment.

  Should she wake him and tell him she’d made her decision? Or, was the truth that she had made the decision now so that she could talk to him again tonight?

  Taking a deep breath, Heather raised her hand to knock.

  “No one’s home,” came the deep voice of Heather’s foreman. She turned quickly in the direction the voice had issued from. There was a small porch, with two chairs on it. Heather knew Reid was sitting in one of them.

  Her heart pounded as she started to walk toward him. “I thought you’d be sleeping,” she said.

  “I was, for a while,” he admitted.

  “I couldn’t sleep either,” she said, then let out a self-conscious laugh. “But I guess that’s evident.”

  “I guess.”

  Heather felt Reid grasp her hand and hold it until she sat. She didn’t trust her voice yet and was quiet as his hand left hers. “Your tobacco smells nice,” she said as she sniffed the fragrance of the smoke he had just lit.

  Silence greeted her words. Heather knew she must do something, say something about why she was here. “Reid...”

  “It’s okay, Heather. When you can’t sleep, having company is nice. You don’t have to make excuses.”

  “I’m not,” she began, knowing she was. “Will you hold my hand?” she asked in a low voice. Even as the words left her lips, she felt her heart race and her breathing deepen. Then the hard warmth of his hand enfolded hers.

  “I lied before,” she said suddenly, but noticed that the pressure of his hand on hers did not change as she spoke. “About when you asked what I was working on in the studio. I’m doing a sculpture of you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to. Reid, I’ve made my decision,” she said. Again, there was only silence and the heat from his hand. “You can make the arrangements for the loan and draw up the lease for the land and the homestead, on one condition.” Heather paused again, but could detect nothing, not even a change in breathing from Reid. “Are you still awake?”

  “No man alive could fall asleep holding your hand,” he said. Heather’s breath was tight in her throat as she forced herself to breathe first and then speak.

  “The condition is simple—I can’t finish the bust without you. I want you to model for me.” Once the words were out, Heather was both relieved and yet even more nervous. She hadn’t planned on adding the condition, but now that she had, she was glad.

  “Heather,” Reid began hesitantly, “I don’t think...I mean, I can’t take time off during the day.”

  “I know. We’ll do it at night. It won’t take long,” she told him. “Only a few sessions.”

  “I...all right,” he said. Then he stood, pulling her to her feet. “Let me walk with you back to the house.” Heather didn’t argue as he led her down the steps and across the flat groun
d toward her house. She had not let go of his hand and could feel the muscles within it. From the moment he’d first touched her hand, heat had spread upward along her arm. Now the heat filled her entire body. It was strange, but what was most frightening was the knowledge that just holding his hand was not enough. It would never be enough.

  Suddenly they were at her door. She turned to face him, and without willing it, she pulled her hand from his and lifted it to his face. Her other hand rose also and went to his shoulder. She felt his body tense as her hand slipped to the back of his neck. His muscles knotted in warning, but she could not stop herself from what was happening. She pulled his head down and felt his resistance leave. As their mouths met, hers exploded with the sensation of his lips pressing against hers. His arms were suddenly around her, crushing her to his chest.

  Heather couldn’t breathe. Tiny lances of fire shot through her body. Her breasts, flattened against him, seemed to swell, and his hands, in the small of her back, were like twin brands. The taste of his mouth on hers, the slight scent of tobacco on his mustache, and the power and strength of his body against hers drove all thoughts from her mind. The only thing Heather was conscious of was an overwhelming desire to be part of Reid Hunter.

  Then Reid pulled his lips from hers and she heard a harsh exhalation come from his mouth. It matched hers in both intensity and need. They clung together like castaways in an ocean with only each other to help themselves stay afloat. Above the hammering of her heart, Heather heard Reid’s whisper.

  “We can’t,” Reid said, as he forced himself to regain control of his mind and body. The softness, which pressed so closely to him, made his head swim and his body ache. “That was wrong of me. I’m sorry,” he said, pulling away gently.

  Heather tried to force her breathing back to normal as she held her balled fists against her sides. She did not try to hide how she felt about him, but would not allow him to see the effects of his rejection. She had been stupidly foolish to let her emotions take charge of her actions.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about,” Heather informed him in as cool a voice as she could muster.

  “I have a lot to be sorry about. One of those things is the fact I work for you. If I didn’t, things could be different. But I am working for you, and what just happened should not have.”

  “Reid, it won’t make any difference to the men,” she told him.

  “Yes, it will. We don’t live in a big city where no one cares about who does what to whom. We live in a closed environment where everyone knows everyone else’s business. The hands won’t work for the owner of a ranch who comes down to them.”

  “You’re wrong! This is not eighteen-eighty Nevada. This is today!” Heather argued, already knowing the futility of it.

  “More so even now. The men work for you and respect you. But if push came to shove and they found out that you were playing with the help, they’d all leave,” Reid stated.

  “I’m not playing and I don’t think they would,” she said in challenge. Her mind reeled from his words, but she would not let herself accept them. “Is it really because I’m the boss, or is it because I’m blind?” Heather asked in an unthinking whisper.

  “You can probably see more with your hands and ears than someone else does with their eyes. No, Heather—you’re the boss, I’m the hired help. And that’s the way it has to be.”

  Heather refused to listen to any more. She didn’t want to believe him about the hired-hand relationship, but she knew what Reid had described could happen. It wouldn’t be the first time. She had heard stories about what had happened to women ranchers when they’d...

  “All right, then I have to say I’m sorry.”

  “Good night, Heather,” Reid said in a low, gentle voice.

  “Good night, Reid,” she replied, holding back the sob that was trying to force itself past her lips. She turned and went up the steps and into the welcome security of her house. Once inside, she ran into her bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

  “I will not cry!” she told herself in a husky voice, “I will not!” Then she felt the warmth and softness of Polaris as he pressed his muzzle into her side. Heather sat up, pulling the dog’s large head onto her lap. She stroked the domed head for a few minutes until she had all her emotions under control.

  “Damn you, Reid Hunter! I’m not finished with you and your archaic rules!”

  SEVEN

  Heather awoke to the sounds of the ranch coming to life. Every day, except for Sunday, was the same. The men getting their horses and riding out to assignments Reid had given them followed the early-morning sounds of the men going to breakfast. She could tell to the minute what time it was by what the men were doing.

  Listening to the first pair of riders leaving the corral, Heather knew it was six o’clock. She had slept later than usual, and one the first things she had been aware of, were the ranch hands. Now, as she listened to the riders, her memory of the previous night returned with a painful rush.

  How could she have done what she did? How could she have let her emotions rule her as they had last night? Could she even talk to Reid today? What was worse, Heather thought as she threw the blanket from her, was how badly she wanted Reid to kiss her and hold her within his strong arms. She wanted to be with him as she had never before wanted anything.

  Then another memory returned—the kiss she and Reid had shared and her instant reaction to it. Even as she thought about it, she could feel her body react again as it had the night before. Her stomach fluttered and her breathing grew ragged. Her legs felt weak and her breasts turned sensitive and tender. “Stop it!” she ordered in a loud voice. Polaris jumped up and barked.

  “Not you,” she said as she scratched behind his ear and laughed. “Me,” she added. Grateful for the dog’s ability to break her mood, Heather rose and dressed. She, too, had a full schedule today and wanted an early start. After breakfast, she had work to do in the studio. Then she was going into town with Emma to get supplies for her studio and to teach her weekly art class at the senior citizens’ center.

  As Heather emerged from the bedroom, she smelled bacon cooking and went into the kitchen. “My you’re up late today,” said Emma Kline. “Hot date?” she kidded.

  “Couldn’t get to sleep. You’re in early,” Heather said with a smile, forcing herself to play the part.

  “Lots of work to be done if I’m chauffeuring you about today. Anyway, sleepyhead, I thought you might like some breakfast. You’ve got a long day ahead of you, too.”

  “Thank you,” Heather said as she moved to the sink and reached for the percolator.

  “Already made,” Emma informed her. “Don’t you dare!” she ordered as Heather began to make a face. “My coffee’s just as good as yours—better, as a matter of fact!”

  “If you like mud,” Heather retorted with a smile.

  “Humph,” was Emma’s only reply. “Sit,” she said, and Heather went to the table. Heather suddenly realized she was hungry and ate as soon as the food was placed before her.

  “Emma?” Heather called as she put her fork down on the empty plate.

  “Still hungry?”

  “No. Why didn’t you tell me how bad off the ranch really was?”

  “Who said it was so bad?”

  “Reid.”

  “That’s why you couldn’t sleep, wasn’t it?” asked the woman who had become her closest friend.

  “Partially. Emma, how long were you going to keep it from me?”

  “Listen, hon, Tom and I talked it out, and we thought we had a pretty good chance of keeping the ranch going. When you hired Reid Hunter, we knew we had a foreman who could keep us going. Now I’m not so sure,” Emma finished.

  “I really appreciate what you’ve done, but I do wish you had told me. Maybe I could have done something to help in the beginning.”

  “Not after what Hank Thompson did. Only a miracle could have helped.”

  “So Reid said.”

  “What else did he say?�
�� Emma asked in a guarded tone.

  “Stop that!” Heather told her crisply. “He said we need about fifty thousand dollars to get back on our feet.”

  “That’s about right,” admitted the bookkeeper.

  “Reid is getting us a loan.” Heather thought Emma would say something, but all she heard was absolute silence. “Emma?”

  “What do you have to give up for it?” Emma asked in a strangely subdued voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Money is tight. Tighter than I’ve ever seen it. How can an itinerant cowboy get you a fifty-thousand-dollar loan? You have to give up something for it. What?”

  “Emma, I thought you liked Reid,” she said, hiding the smile that tried to escape.

  “I do. But as old as I am, I’ve learned a lot. You just don’t get something for nothing.”

  “Okay, you’re right,” Heather said. Then, for effect, she lowered her voice, putting sadness into it. “I’m giving up the south ridge three hundred for—”

  “The old homestead?” Emma interrupted, her voice hushed and far away. “Your father’s turning over in his grave.”

  “A camp,” she finished. It took Emma a few seconds for the last words to register, and Heather finally allowed the smile to reach her lips.

  “A camp?” was the questioning echo.

  “The loan is from a foundation. It’s a low-interest note,” she told the bookkeeper, and then explained the entire situation. When she was finished, Heather knew there was a smile spread across Emma’s face. She knew too, she had made the right decision.

  ~~~

  Heather stood alone in the studio, waiting. Two nights had passed since she had spoken to Reid about sitting for the sculpture, and tonight was to be their first session. She was nervous, almost afraid, of his arrival. For the last two days, it had been relatively easy. There were always people around, and both she and Reid had acted normally. Tonight they would be alone again.