Wyoming Born & Bred

by Cathleen Galitz

  All the way down the bumpy road to the bus stop she berated herself for falling for that glib line about Cameron being a man of his word. Certainly the boys were entitled to their despondency, but having no claim to their childish naïveté, she considered her own gullibility a shameful thing. Experience had taught her men’s allegiances were as fleeting as Hadley’s dreams. That a pair of flashing blue eyes was capable of making her forget that truth was a tribute only to her weakness as a woman too long without the company of a man.

  She returned home a half an hour later resolute in her determination not to moon around about something over which she had no control. In no time at all, Patricia was back in Hadley’s old overalls facing a ladder that was as shaky as her nerves. Yesterday’s tumble from the sky into Cameron’s arms hadn’t done anything to reduce the fear of heights that had plagued her since childhood.

  Unfortunately, she had little choice but to conquer her fears. The roof needed fixing, and no one else was going to volunteer for the job. It was time to put thoughts of another romantic rescue out of mind.

  Don’t look down! she cautioned herself with each step she took. Whatever you do, don’t look dawn!

  Feeling rather like Charlie Chaplin cast in the role of a laughable tightrope walker, Patricia made her way across the sharply peaked roof with the unlikely balance of a crowbar in her hands. Blood was pounding in her head, and she fought to breathe deeply so as not to grow faint. Confined again to a playpen in full sight of her mother’s watchful eye, Amy was too engrossed in the litter of kittens incarcerated with her to pay much attention to the litany of choice names Patricia called Cameron in his absence.

  Hold on to your heart, Cowboy!

  Seeing Patricia up on the roof again twisted Cameron’s guts into a couple of half hitches that even the most seasoned Eagle Scout would be at a loss to undo. What in God’s good name did that woman think she was doing back up there, when he had specifically told her he was going to fix it himself? Damn her stubborn hide! What was she trying to do? Kill herself?

  He stuck his head out the window and hollered before his pickup rolled to a complete stop. “Get down from there right now before I climb up there myself and drag your pretty little butt down!”

  Boiling mad, he wasn’t particularly worried about phrasing his concern in politically correct terms. Maybe later when Patricia was safely on the ground and his heart was beating at a normal rate once again, he’d concern himself with matters of semantic sensitivity.

  Or maybe he’d use the opportunity to point out that her children minded far better than she did!

  “Your mommy is as stubborn as an unbroken colt,” he muttered as he ran past Amy. In response she dropped a hapless kitten over the side of her playpen directly in his path. The calico scrambled to avoid his size eleven cowboy boots.

  Cameron had one foot on the bottom rung of the ladder when Patricia’s voice leaked over the edge of the roof. “You needn’t bother making good any quaint he-man threat. I was just about to come down anyway to check on Amy.”

  The arctic glare which accompanied that regally intoned announcement would have frozen lesser men on the spot. She looked like she wanted to wrap that crowbar around his neck.

  Women!

  What confounding creatures they were. What man could ever hope to figure them out? Cameron’s aversion for the opposite sex quickly changed to appreciation as Patricia began her descent down that rickety old ladder. Slowly, slowly, slowly...she made her way down step by cautious step. The view from below was quite enjoyable. What that woman could do to a pair of baggy overalls was phenomenal. As that lovely backside moved eye level to him, Cameron cursed his own weakness.

  Women!

  “Watch out for that broken rung,” he instructed, bracing himself against the hope that she just might fall into his arms again.

  Patricia snorted at the unnecessary advice.

  “That’s it.” Sensing the nervousness in her rigidity, Cameron spoke as gently as if he were coaxing a skittish filly into a halter. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

  Things certainly were not okay with Patricia. As his hands encircled her waist, she felt the world tilt crazily off its axis. He set her upon the ground as gently as one would position a butterfly upon a dewy blossom. Railing against the urge to succumb to the security of a pair of arms as strong as forever, she cursed her traitorous body.

  Forever! She doubted whether the word was in the scoundrel’s vocabulary. In less than twenty-four hours, Cameron Wade had proven he was not the kind of man to be relied upon.

  Patricia swatted angrily at his hands.

  That where have you been? look leveled at him would have brought any sensible husband to his knees but only served to confuse Cameron. Unlike his married friends, he wasn’t the type to apologize when he didn’t have a clue as to what he’d done wrong.

  “What?” he asked throwing his hands up in dismay. This crazy woman’s mood had more swings than a confounded playground!

  Patricia regarded him through narrowed lids. “Around here, mister, we start our days when the sun comes up. I’m not paying you to lollygag around till,” she pointedly checked her watch, “ten o’clock in the morning.”

  Instantly defensive, Cameron reminded himself that this was exactly the reason he had pledged wholeheartedly to bachelorhood. Who needed all those demented mind-games women loved to play? Their need to be in control at all times? Their hormonal roller-coaster approach to life in general?

  He, for one, was going to be damned hard to break to the double harness. By its very nature, marriage was intended for tamer temperaments than his.

  When Cameron spoke again, his words were measured slowly. “I sure as hell don’t owe you an explanation of my whereabouts, lady, but for your information I went into town to buy a few things for myself and...” He pointed to his vehicle parked in the driveway. “And for you.”

  Patricia’s anger dissipated at the sight of sunshine glinting off a new aluminum ladder sticking out of the open tailgate of his pickup. Leaden footed, she dragged herself over to peer into the bed of the pickup. Beside stacks of new shingles sat a dozen sacks of groceries. A package of thick T-bones poked out of the top of one.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” she protested, her voice growing small. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she clarified wondering how in the world she was going to pay for all of this.

  “Don’t think of it as charity,” Cameron said, the tiniest thread of little boy hurt lacing his voice. “Unlike you, I eat a lot and I like my food cholesterol laden. There’s no need for you to pay for my vices.”

  Patricia stiffened at the mention of the word charity. “I wasn’t going to let you starve,” she snapped. “I just haven’t had time to get to the grocery store. Thank you for saving me the trouble.”

  She lifted a sack out of the back of the pickup. “Let me get my checkbook and reimburse you.”

  Cameron shook his head, and a wayward shock of golden hair fell across his forehead. “There’s no need. I charged the shingles to your account at the lumberyard. The food and the ladder are on me.” His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “It is in my best interest after all to keep you from breaking your neck before payday rolls around.”

  Patricia’s lips twitched. Darned if this contrary man didn’t have a way of making her smile even when she was determined not to.

  There was something different about the boss-lady this morning, but Cameron couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Were her eyes somehow brighter, her cheeks redder, her lips pinker? He felt an unaccountable longing to loosen that glorious tumble of hair from the constraints of the rubber band which pulled it so severely away from her face. Instead he merely took the heavy sack of groceries from her.

  “Let me get these.”

  It was not a request. Though tempted to tell him that she was used to carrying in her own groceries, Patricia acquiesced to his gallantry as meekly as one of the kittens frolicking on the lawn. She felt sorry f
or the poor creatures. Amy was wearing out the whole litter with her constant attention. Patricia bent down and cuddled one in her arms. It was Mittens, a white longhair born with two extra toes and a sweet, slightly goofy disposition. The creature purred contentedly in her mistress’s arms.

  “Thank you,” she said to Cameron who looked so shocked by the simple statement that it made Patricia wonder, if like herself, he’d received too little by way of appreciation expressed in his life.

  Feeling bad about having thought such rotten things about Cameron all morning, when in fact he had been out restocking her pantry, Patricia sorely regretted the cool reception she had given him. It was strange but nice having somebody fuss over her for a change.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” she added, gracing him with her warmest smile.

  “I’ll warrant you won’t be if you get back on that roof again,” he growled.

  Cameron had the oddest sensation that he had been sucker punched. The woman’s gratitude turned him to mush. It was the most disconcerting feeling he’d ever encountered. One minute he wanted to throttle her and the next to discover if the passion smoldering in those sweet, chocolate-brown eyes extended all the way to her lips. If he was any judge of character, such a potential conflagration could level a forest fire in nothing flat. No telling what it could do to the dry kindling of a man’s desire too long denied.

  He made several trips back to the pickup while Patricia took the baby inside and began unloading the groceries. Steaks and roasts went into the freezer along with several tubs of expensive brand-name ice cream and a half dozen cartons of Popsicles she knew were purchased especially for the children. There were canned goods galore and lunch meats and fresh bread and sugar-sweetened cereals and tantalizing specialties from the local bakery that set Patricia’s mouth watering. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten any produce she hadn’t grown herself, and the kids were sure to be in heaven gobbling the gobs of candy Cameron had bought. It had been a long time indeed since her shelves had been so full.

  Once things were put away, Patricia insisted Cameron sit down and have a cup of coffee and one of the delectable cinnamon rolls he’d bought at the local bakery. No fancy flavored cappuccinos for Cameron Wade. He took his coffee just as Patricia suspected he would—black and hot enough to burn the top of one’s mouth.

  Watching the baby smear applesauce all over her face, Cameron laughed at the minuscule amount Amy actually managed to get into her mouth. His deep, rich voice filled the room and sent tremors sweeping through Patricia’s insides. Despite the primitive warning signs rushing through her body, she could feel a palpable coziness to the scene. Through the fragrant steam rising from the cups sitting between them, she saw the flickering image of a real family in the amazing depths of Cameron’s blue, blue eyes. And felt a curious longing.

  The sound of a plastic bowl hitting the linoleum shattered the pleasant moment. Amy giggled in delight as applesauce flew everywhere, splattering the wallpaper, wrapping around the legs of the high chair and decorating the freshly scrubbed floor in the decor most favored by chimpanzees.

  Reality was more scalding than the freshly brewed coffee Patricia had just poured into two cups. Daydreaming about a handsome knight rushing in on a white horse to save her from the drudgery of single motherhood was a waste of time she could ill afford. As her dour father had told Patricia more times than she could count, life was a series of choices.

  She had made hers in direct opposition to his wishes, and according to Roland D’Winter it only served her right to have to lie in that proverbial bed. Not that he wouldn’t welcome her back under his smothering control if she would only admit that she had been wrong and come back home as the penitent sinner. Trouble was, Patricia wasn’t in the least contrite. No doubt about it, her life was hard. But it was her own, and it had made her strong. She was determined that her children would be raised in an atmosphere of love and encouragement. Unlike her own upbringing, they would grow up having faith in their ability to take whatever the world threw at them and make the best of it.

  Patricia knew that it was not only useless to fantasize about life with a man who insisted on carrying in her groceries and thought roofing was masculine work, it was also unfair. To him. And to the children who would always come first in her life.

  Despite predictions to the contrary, Patricia was proud of the fact that she was proving each and every day that a loving single mother was capable of taking care of her brood all by herself. Maybe her life had evolved into an unvarying hard routine, but that was no excuse to go around daydreaming about a virtual stranger. One who considered her as feather-brained as her livestock.

  Patricia walked over to the sink to retrieve a sponge to clean up the mess and was surprised to hear herself ask, “Have you ever been married?”

  Cameron snorted. “No, ma’am. Not me.”

  The conviction with which he guttered the words made Patricia smile.

  “A confirmed bachelor, huh?”

  “You could say that,” he responded tersely.

  He hadn’t liked what he had glimpsed in Patricia’s eyes a moment ago. Cameron had seen that same look before in dozens of other women’s eyes. That hopeful, predatory look that always preceded the inevitable question about his marital status. It seemed to him that women were drawn to men who had never been married like hunters to a trophy buck. Proud of the fact that he had never been tagged, Cameron was determined to never have his head hanging over any woman’s bed.

  Nonetheless, his fortitude began to crumble as Patricia got down on her hands and knees and began swabbing up the sticky goo on the floor. His body responded involuntarily to the way her body moved as she worked. Swallowing the last gulp of hot coffee in one agonizing swig, he jumped up to go.

  “Like you said, it’s time I start earning my keep around here.”

  “I didn’t mean it to sound like—”

  The back door swung shut on the rest of Patricia’s comment. A few minutes later over a sinkful of dirty dishes, she watched him haul her old ladder past the kitchen window and over to the woodpile—where he proceeded to chop it into kindling.

  Patricia couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He wasn’t kidding about not wanting her back on that ladder. Or the roof either, for that matter, she realized as the sound of heavy footsteps overhead began resonating throughout the house.

  Cameron’s genuine concern for her well-being touched a chord deep inside of her. Why the last chivalrous man on the planet had somehow fallen on her doorstep, she wasn’t sure, but Patricia wasn’t above suspecting Hadley of intervening. Considering his lack of attention to their welfare when he had been with them on earth, it seemed the least he could do in the Hereafter was to send out a heavenly cavalry in the form of a bighearted cowboy.

  While Cameron was clomping around on the roof, Patricia took advantage of the rare opportunity to get caught up on her housework. It felt good to get at the inside work she’d been neglecting while focusing on more pressing outside jobs. Besides, she didn’t want her new boarder to think her a slovenly landlady.

  From his rooftop vantage point, Cameron had a bird’s-eye view of a verdant valley surrounded by craggy mountain peaks. The only mark of humankind upon the panoramic scene was a lone red ribbon of road snaking its way through the clay of Red Canyon. Gazing upon the backside of creation, Cameron was convinced of the land’s ability to withstand alteration. Like his grandfather before him, he vowed nothing would come between him and the land. He knew exactly what Spencer Wade had been thinking when he had so brazenly claimed this land as his own. Cameron’s soul, too, was inexorably intertwined with this soil. Fate decreed that they would be buried together in the same hard-baked clay.

  Looking down upon the maze of pens set up for the emus, Cameron was pleased to see how little space they actually took up. Long runways specifically designed to provide the birds with an avenue for great bursts of speed gave the silly critters ample opportunity to run up and down the lengt
h of chain-link fencing. As far as he could tell, they did nothing more than poop and run off what little meat was on their bones. Plucked, he’d be surprised to find more than a good-size turkey breast beneath all those feathers.

  Soaking up the warm autumn sun, he visualized his own plans for this place. From his travels, he knew there was a crying need for quality quarter horses. With a little luck, a lucrative endorsement campaign, and a lot of hard work, he planned on making the Triple R synonymous with the finest horseflesh in the country. There was just one glitch in his well-laid plans: a headstrong brunette with a bewitching pair of eyes as changeable as springtime in Wyoming. At one moment they were soft, gentle and beguiling; the next, as cold and furious as a March blizzard.

  A rusty rope of dust in the distance caught Cameron’s eye. He checked his watch. It was almost four o’clock. That would be the school bus. The thought of seeing those two energetic little boys again twisted his lips into a smile. The wisp of a cloud passing overhead cast a thin shadow over his enthusiasm. Quickly, he reminded himself not to get overly involved in the comings and goings of this family. Particularly not when he was so intent on their going....

  Chapter Five

  Toting a baby on her hip and juggling a set of keys in one hand, Patricia checked her watch. She was running behind—as usual. Being a few minutes late to the bus stop might not have bothered most mothers, but the thought of having her children dropped off in the middle of the prairie made Patricia’s heart beat as hard as a drill press. Despite repeated warnings about staying put and never taking up with strangers, she wouldn’t put it past the boys to thumb a ride home without a second thought to their safety or her peace of mind. Likely they would treat any outsider as they had Cameron Wade—with more curiosity than concern.

  As she crossed the yard, Patricia glanced up to see her new foreman hard at work. She sucked in her breath. Framed against a cerulean sky, the man was magnificent. He had abandoned his shirt to reveal a torso more rippled than the washboardy road that was systematically beating her vehicle to pieces. Haloed in sunlight his muscles glistened with sweat. For all intents and purposes it appeared as though a mythological god had alighted upon her roof. The crowbar he held could well have been a lightning bolt pointed directly at her heart.