Buffalo Gal

by Mary Connealy

  Buffy looked back at her patient to distract her from an uncomfortable pang of jealousy.

  “By the end of the first semester at the university, I knew I’d be miserable anywhere but out here. I told her I was quitting school and going home to ranch, and I asked her to marry me. She said yes.”

  “After only dating for a few months?”

  Wyatt shrugged. “We were just kids, still in that first glow of new love. It all seemed like a miracle. I got out just long enough to find the woman of my dreams. She came all the way across the country to be an earth mother. We were going to have six kids and eat food out of our garden, and she’d sew our clothes and knit our sweaters. We eloped and came home for Christmas to tell my folks we were married and ask if we could have my old room. My folks were thrilled. Jess was pregnant by New Year’s. By the end of January, she was stir-crazy.”

  “This is a beautiful place to live, Wyatt. But it’s not for everybody.”

  “She sure wasn’t suited to it. She wanted more socializing, more regular hours. Her folks had a lot of money, and she was used to traveling and shopping in stylish stores.”

  Buffy looked down at her sweat-soaked cotton work shirt and bloody Levis. “Culture shock, huh?”

  “Big-time. The weird part of it was, her classy clothes and her urban attitude were the things I was most attracted to. So I was asking her to give up what I loved most about her.”

  “She would have adjusted eventually. All she really needed was time.”

  “Time just made it worse. She didn’t like worrying about snow and drought. It wore on her. She cried a lot and yelled even more. She didn’t want to live with my folks, but there weren’t any other livable houses around. I might have bought us a trailer, but there were days her mood was so black I didn’t feel. . .” Wyatt fell silent.

  Buffy turned to listen more closely.

  He cleared his throat. “I didn’t feel comfortable leaving the boys with her. I wasn’t sure. . .I wasn’t sure what she might do. So we stayed with my folks. And about two years ago, she died in car wreck.” Wyatt’s voice faded to a whisper. “I’ve often wondered when she died if it wasn’t a relief for her.”

  “Was it that bad?”

  Wyatt thought about it; then he turned back to his stitching, and Buffy thought he might refuse to answer. She started sewing again, too. They were nearly done. This horrible day might finally be drawing to a close.

  The bull began moving restlessly as the sedative wore off.

  “She never could tell the boys apart. Not even when they were older.”

  Buffy said incredulously, “They barely resemble each other. How could someone not tell them apart?”

  Wyatt laughed. “Buffalo Gal, they look so much alike the teacher at their school makes me come in with them every morning and tell her which is which. They tried to trick her almost every day until we started doing that. It wouldn’t have mattered much except the boys have a habit of fooling someone and then laughing like loons when they’re done with their prank. It made the teacher mad to be lied to all the time, and it really made her mad to be laughed at.”

  “Haven’t you had a talk with her? I mean, Cody’s eyelashes are thicker, and Colt must outweigh him by quite a bit.”

  “Two pounds,” Wyatt supplied.

  Wyatt leaned away from the bull and groaned as his back cracked. “I know just what you mean, but the teacher doesn’t see it. She suggested I put an X on the back of their necks in different colors of indelible ink so she could tell.”

  Buffy gasped. “She wanted to mark them? Like wild animals that have been darted and tagged by the Wildlife Service? That’s awful!”

  “Kinda struck me that way, too.” Wyatt put the needle back in Buffy’s satchel and reached for the thermos of hot water she’d brought. The bull stirred his legs, and Wyatt eased away from the big animal. Coyote lifted his head and moaned out a plaintive moo then let his head drop back to the ground.

  “He’s coming around. Give him some room.” Wyatt poured warm water over first one hand and then the other. Buffy shifted her supplies out of the way of moving hooves, and Wyatt poured the water for her to wash. “In the teacher’s defense, those two rascals were tormenting her. You know what they’re capable of.”

  Buffy sniffed. “She sounds incompetent to me.”

  “Now, darlin’, we don’t go bad-mouthing teachers out here. We’re still in that old-fashioned mode where if the teacher punishes you at school, you get punished again when you get home.”

  Buffy said aghast, “You really do that? You side with the teacher against your boys?”

  “Every single stinkin’ time, regardless of the circumstances. You’ve met my boys, right?”

  “Even if they are active—”

  Wyatt cut in, “And I’ve gone to church with Mrs. Rogers for forty years. She was my teacher back in the day. I’d trust her with my life, and I trust her with my boys. Besides, I’m still kinda scared of her.”

  Buffy looked at Wyatt and tried to imagine him scared of anybody. She began to laugh.

  Wyatt grinned. “I’m serious. She’s tough.” Wyatt leaned very close to her and whispered, “And I’ll tell you another reason I side with her, but it’s a secret.”

  They knelt inches from each other. He was too close. He had mischief in his eyes, and she could smell the hard scent of sweat and cattle and the prairie breeze on him. The metallic scent of blood was primitive like her reaction to Wyatt.

  She should have moved away but instead she leaned closer. “What secret?”

  With sparkling eyes, he said, “My boys run around shooting each other all the time. Drives everybody who knows ’em crazy.”

  “Wyatt!” Buffy sat back on her heels and swatted at him.

  He caught her hand before she could do any damage. “You don’t have any of those tranquilizer darts in a forty-pound dose, do you? Like two of them, maybe? To be administered at Cody and Colt’s bedtime.”

  “Wyatt Shaw, don’t you dare talk about your boys that way!” She tugged at her hand, but he didn’t let go.

  His voice was husky, and she barely heard him say, “This is so stupid.”

  Then he kissed her.

  Nine

  Wyatt lost the battle, and the war wasn’t looking good.

  He pulled Buffy closer. The box of veterinary supplies was between them, and he shoved it aside and pulled her onto his lap. The shifting around gave him time to think, and he broke off the sweetest kiss he’d ever had. And that was a sad thing for a man to say who’d been married. He lifted his head, and she chased after him. He almost howled at the moon, he wanted to kiss her again so bad. Instead, he dropped her off his lap. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Buffy’s eyes were fixed on his lips. “I’ll say.”

  Wyatt got to his feet and walked away from her about ten feet. He ran his hands through his hair and knocked his hat off his head. He clumsily caught it then tossed it aside on the dewy grass. He was far enough away from her that he couldn’t see her expression. So he took a chance and faced her. “We both know that shouldn’t have happened.”

  Buffy didn’t answer. Instead, she rolled onto her hands and knees, turned away from him, and began packing her satchel with unsteady movements.

  “Well, say something!” The bull’s legs jerked when Wyatt yelled. Wyatt strode over to Buffy and yanked her to her feet. He gripped her upper arms. “It was stupid!”

  “Very stupid.” Buffy wrenched against his grip, and Wyatt had to hold on tight to keep his hands on her.

  “Let go!”

  Wyatt would never have let go if she’d fought him physically, but her voice, cold and angry, jarred him out of whatever madness had made him get this close.

  He let go.

  She turned and walked around the bull and crouched behind him. She was fussing with his eyelids, and she ran her hand down his neck. She reached for her vet bag across the bull’s back in a way that made it clear she wanted to keep the bull between
her and Wyatt. She fished around in the bag for a little bottle of medicine and with deft movements gave Coyote a shot of antibiotic. “I don’t want to leave him out here unconscious. Why don’t you go get some rest?”

  “I’m not leaving you. You don’t even have a way back.”

  “There’s someone riding herd nearby all night.”

  “I thought you said Bill was the last. Why would someone still be riding herd?”

  “Because we’re doing a final head count in the morning, and we aren’t going to let up on your herd until we’ve double-checked. You’ll go right past him. Tell him to bring his truck over this way later and check on me.”

  “Forget it. You go. I’ll stay.”

  “I’m the vet. And I’m the one with the escaped buffalo. This is my responsibility.”

  “My ranch. My bull. My responsibility.”

  “Okay, then go away so you can keep yourself from doing something as stupid as kissing me again!”

  Wyatt had to give her that one. He did need to get away from her. Because now he heard the hurt in her voice and his own insult coming from her mouth. He knew the best way to make it better was to pull her back into his arms and tell her it wasn’t stupid, that it was the best idea he’d had in a long time. Years. Ever.

  “Buffy, you know I’m a Christian.”

  Buffy didn’t answer.

  “I don’t kiss women to entertain myself.” He planted his hands on his hips and felt the evening breeze ruffle his hair. He tried to drink in the cool of the night.

  “Good, because that wasn’t very entertaining.” Coyote stirred, and Buffy got behind him and heaved when he tried to sit up.

  Wyatt ignored that crack because he’d felt the way she responded to him. She’d been entertained almost out of her mind. Just like him. “So, I’m not going to kiss you again.”

  “Good. I agree. It’s unanimous.” Her voice could have taken bites out of his hide.

  Wyatt knew the bull didn’t really need her help, but she looked like she needed to keep busy. “And the opposite of kissing for entertainment is getting serious, and we both know it can’t be anything serious, because you’re headed for the job of your dreams, and I’ll live out the rest of my life alone before I ask some woman to choose me over anything else.”

  “You’re absolutely right: It can’t be serious! Because I’d rather be an old maid than get involved with a man who thinks it’s his right to dominate the whole world!” She yelled, but her hands were gentle as they ran over the bull’s black coat.

  Wyatt tried to remember Jessica ever touching any of his livestock like that. She wouldn’t go near the cattle, not even the baby calves. She said they smelled bad. She was scared of the horses. Gathering eggs had been his job, too.

  “So that’s it. Nothing serious, nothing foolish. That leaves nothing.”

  “Nothing,” Buffy agreed. She fell silent as she petted the big bull. Coyote shook his head and huffed a slobbery sneeze. Angus snot sprayed Buffy’s neck and arm and the front of her bloody shirt. She wiped her neck negligently on one hunched shoulder with an ugh of disgust. Then she wiped her arms off on the bull’s neck and slapped him affectionately on the shoulder. “Cut that out, you old coot.”

  She was filthy, and she smelled like a cow herd in July. She was soaked in blood, and she wanted Wyatt to stay away from her. But she kissed like a dream and knew his boys apart, and she didn’t mind bull slobber.

  Wyatt fell in love.

  What jolted his body wasn’t a timid feeling. It wasn’t particularly joyful either, because it wasn’t possible for them to be together. What it was, was real. It was a fully formed emotion that invaded him down to his cells and his chromosomes and definitely down to his heart. It was something that made what he’d felt for his wife pale and superficial. . .and heartbreaking.

  Allison “Buffy” Lange was the most interesting, touchable, honest woman he’d ever known, coated with the hide and temperament of a buffalo. And he knew with an already-broken heart that he was going to love her for the rest of his life.

  The bull flinched slightly when she slapped him and twisted his head to look over his shoulder at her.

  “Sorry.” Buffy patted more gently. “I know you’ve had a rough day. Why don’t you get up for me, big boy? Show me some of that purebred heart.”

  As if he were listening to her, the bull lurched to its feet with a grunt. Buffy jumped to her feet and backed away, shouting encouragement. The bull stood, wavering a bit for a few seconds; then it began walking down toward the water tank that stood by the windmill. It walked out from between them, and Wyatt had to tense every muscle in his body to keep from closing the space.

  He wanted to beg her to forget buffalo and all her years of education and come home and help him identify his boys. She’d only have to give up her life’s work, her dreams, her future.

  He estimated it would take about six weeks for her to start resenting him.

  Buffy watched the bull walk away, and Wyatt used that time to get ahold of himself. He turned, his muscles resisting his mind, and started packing up her medical supplies.

  She had done most of it already, and it was the work of seconds to finish. When he was done, he trusted his voice. “Let’s go. It’s probably too late for me to see the boys tonight, but I’d like to get some sleep.”

  Buffy turned from watching the bull, picked up the satchel while Wyatt grabbed the box, and started for the pickup. “You’d better come back to the Commons and sleep with me.”

  “What?” Wyatt nearly strangled on the word. Then he hurried to catch up with her.

  “Your house is probably livable, with the cleaning crew and repairs we’ve done. The carpeting was ruined, by the way. Anna gave the go-ahead to replace it with the same color. She said it was the color of dirt and you’d never keep up with anything else. Anna and the boys will be at my place. We’ve got plenty of room for you in the bunkhouse.”

  Oh.

  Wyatt waited for the blood to start flowing to his head. “Okay. I’m too tired to look at my place anyway.”

  They drove back to the Commons in a strained silence that Wyatt couldn’t breach, because everything he had to say was a big mistake.

  Buffy pointed to the bunkhouse.

  “I know my way.”

  “I had my men bring you a change of clothes, which will be on the first empty bunk in the door. Shower and come up to the house. There’ll be some supper for you.”

  Wyatt wasn’t going anywhere near her house, especially not if she was clean and sweet-smelling. He was so hungry his stomach had started gnawing on his innards, but he wasn’t going in. “I’ll pass on the supper. I’m dead on my feet.”

  Buffy didn’t look at him. “Okay, then.” She agreed so easily that Wyatt was sure she wanted to get away from him. He wondered if it was for the same reason he wanted to get away from her. And perversely that made him want to stick like a buffalo burr.

  As she walked away, she said over her shoulder, “Tomorrow we’ll begin damage assessment on your ranch. And we’ll decide what we’re going to do about your heifers having a buff calf. How long had your bull been in with them?”

  “Just a couple of days.”

  “Okay, I’ve got a couple of ideas.”

  Wyatt nodded and began striding toward the bunkhouse. He wanted to look back and see if she was watching him. He wanted to so bad; only a lifetime of self-discipline, honed to an art form by marriage to a woman who was never watching when he looked back, kept him moving the way he had to go.

  ❧

  Wyatt wanted to find a bed and fall face-first on it, but as he walked across the yard, a certain smell kept him on his feet.

  Meat.

  Wolf swung the door open to his trailer house. “Come on in and grab a burger. You’ve got to be starving.”

  Now Wyatt wanted to fall face-first on the food. He almost jogged into Wolf’s house and grabbed a bun piled high with a savory meat patty, tomatoes, and onions. He nearly swall
owed it whole. He ate another one while Wolf doctored up three more sandwiches.

  “I’m going to run over to the bunkhouse and grab a shower. If you’re planning to eat all of those, tell me now so I won’t get my heart broken when I come back.”

  “They’re yours. They’ll be waiting for you.”

  “I don’t know if they’re the best thing I’ve ever eaten or if I’m just starving to death.” Wyatt swiped another one before he left to clean up.

  “Both, I reckon,” Wolf said dryly.

  Wyatt was in and out of the shower and back at Wolf’s place in minutes. He felt 100 percent better. “I didn’t realize just how deep the grit had worked into my skin.” He took another burger and ate it before he sat down.

  Wolf put a plate on the table in front of Wyatt. He loaded two more burgers on it and a mountain of fried potatoes. He tossed an ear of sweet corn on the plate and set a dish of melted butter and a glass of iced tea on the table. He set a plate with more burgers in the center and brought along an empty plate for himself.

  Wyatt was eating before Wolf sat down. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was either.”

  “Tough day,” Wolf said.

  Wyatt chewed for a while, thinking of the day Jessica died. “I reckon I’ve had one that was tougher.”

  Wolf sat across the battered wooden table.

  Wyatt felt Wolf watching him eat with strange intensity. “What is it?” Wyatt braced himself for more bad news.

  “So, you really like the burgers. . . .”

  “Yeah. They’re great. Best I’ve ever had.” Wyatt wasn’t just saying that. Now that he’d finished three of them and half the potatoes, his starving belly wasn’t screaming anymore. He could actually taste them. “They’re different. What’d you do to ’em?”

  “You mean you want to swap recipes, Mary Lou?” Wolf’s black eyes sparkled.

  Wyatt almost laughed. “That’s about what I’m reduced to after today. Maybe after that, you can tell me if these pants make my butt look big.”

  Wolf laughed and grabbed a burger for himself. “It’s a buffalo burger.”