by Floyd, Susan
THE REST OF THE MORNING went slowly. The cows that hadn’t gone into the canyon had scattered into the mountains. That was just as well for Clem. She still couldn’t shake the stark fear that had overtaken her when she’d realized Dexter and Randy were trapped. The men seemed to know this and each spent a few moments reassuring her. By the time the first cows began to venture out of the canyon, Clem had recovered her sense of self. Working together they managed to herd together the cows. Then Dexter and Randy, with the help of three dogs, took them down the path to the waiting corral.
They came back nodding. “It worked. We’ve got ten down.”
While they’d been gone, Clem, Randy and the hands had managed to gather up another ten.
And so back and forth they worked, until they’d rounded up fifty and daylight had started to fade.
“We better call it quits,” Randy said. “It gets dark pretty darn quick up here.”
“Maybe a couple of us should stay out and watch these,” one of the hired hands suggested.
Ryan shook his head. “I don’t think it’s necessary. They’re not going anywhere and if they decide to, two guys aren’t going to stop them. We’ve put in a good day’s work. Let’s go on home.”
Clem was exhausted once they got back to the trailers. She didn’t think she even had the strength to lift the saddle off Archie. She leaned her head against it. Maybe if she rested first.
“Are you trying to levitate it using just your brain?” Randy asked, as he gently brushed her aside and removed the saddle.
She smiled at him. “I am so glad you guys made it out.”
“Thanks to you. Ryan tells me it was all your doing.”
She shook her head. “I think it was Archie. I was frightened out of my mind.” Archie nickered at the sound of his name. She patted him on the nose as she led him into the trailer. “You get an extra brushing and an extra bucket of oats tonight.”
Dexter waited until she got out of the trailer. Then he closed the door with a definitive slam. He walked next to her, opening up the passenger side of the truck. With an easy heft, he deposited her on the seat.
She smiled wryly. “I’m exhausted.”
“You worked hard,” he said as he started the truck. He stared in his side-view mirror, studying the fifty head in the corral. “They are beauties.”
Clem had already closed her eyes. She was sick to death of those cows.
“We’re going to have to figure out how to get them from the plateau to your pasture,” Dexter said as he pulled out.
“Can’t we just send them down the road?” Clem yawned.
He nodded. “In tens and twenties again. It’s going to be slow. Maybe we can have several groups go one after another.”
“Sounds like a plan. I can’t wait to get rid of them.”
There was a long silence. Dexter cleared his throat and said gruffly, “You did good out there.”
She smiled at him. “Thanks.”
“You look like you were born for the work. How come you’ve never done it before?”
She made a face and rested back against his slippery seat. “During college, I was dazzled by an intellectual business major. After that, I only came back here for holidays.”
“You’re easily dazzled?”
She nodded. “At eighteen, I was. Nick, was, is a very charming man, quite a talker, and I’d grown up around cowboys. My dad had warned me about the cowboys, but not about the slick city boys.” She gave him a small smile. “I was a farm girl, and I had a really hard time adjusting, until Nick picked me out of all the other freshmen girls. The rest is history.”
“History?”
“I quit school to get married and we got really rich in San Jose on the dot.com wave. Then he fell in love with one of his colleagues and he left me. Twelve years gone—poof!”
“He must be a fool.”
She shook her head. “No. He’s just a man who can talk well.”
She reflected on what that meant. Nick was just a man who could talk well. He could talk himself into and out of everything. Funny, how she’d always thought that if the people around her talked more, she’d feel less isolated, less lonely. Yet here she sat next to a man whose silence filled her with a complete sense of herself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CLEM STEPPED OUT of the shower and felt like a new woman. She could almost forget this morning’s terrifying incident. Almost. She hurt all over. Her back, her shoulder, her neck. She’d found muscles she didn’t even realize she had.
He must be a fool.
Clem smiled and fastened her locket around her neck. In his silent way, Dexter was reaching out to her. Maybe, just maybe, he liked her. With a light heart, she walked down the stairs, wondering what in the world they would eat for dinner. She’d told Dex to give her an hour, but the shower had taken up twenty precious minutes.
She had some steaks defrosting in the refrigerator along with some more green beans and a couple of sweet potatoes. She could do something with that. As she got closer to the kitchen, the aroma of sizzling steaks assaulted her. She pushed open the door and found Randy and Ryan. Both had cleaned up, their hair slicked back from a shower, their clothes rumpled but clean.
“What are you guys doing?”
Ryan looked at Randy, whose grin was a mile wide.
“It was a surprise. Steak and eggs. Ryan’s making sweet potato fries. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Don’t mind?” Clem laughed. “Do you see this smile? It’s a relief. I was just wondering what to make you.”
“You don’t have to do the cooking. We’re perfectly capable.”
Clem perched on a chair. “I can see that. Where did you pick up your culinary skills?”
There was a protracted silence as the brothers exchanged a look. Both of their faces reddened. “You answer that,” Randy said, passing the question to Ryan.
“The cook,” Ryan supplied with a grin.
“The cook?”
Both brothers looked sheepish. “Our family has a little money.”
“A little money?” Clem considered them.
“Okay. A lot of money. Bakersfield oil, mainly.”
“And you do this because…”
“Well, we’ve got to eat sometime,” Randy said, deliberately misunderstanding her.
“You know what I mean. You rope wild cows because…”
They were silent.
Finally, Ryan said, his voice light, “We like it.”
“We had, shall we say, a, um, turbulent adolescence.” Randy flipped a steak.
“And our parents shipped us to one of those cowboy boot camps to straighten us out. We liked it.”
“And the rest is history,” Randy finished, cracking an egg with one hand.
“I could eat a horse,” Dexter announced as he walked in the back door.
Clem couldn’t help but give him a wide smile. He, too, had cleaned up. And he’d taken the time to shave.
“A cow will have to do,” Randy said. He handed Dexter a plate of steaks. “Take that into the dining room. And no, it’s not all for you. Clem gets first shot at the steaks, since it’s thanks to her that we’re here to enjoy them.”
Clem hopped off the stool and started to rummage through the drawers for forks and knives. She grabbed the napkins out of another drawer and headed into the dining room. Once she got there, Dexter took everything from her and proceeded to set the table.
Suddenly, as they both realized they were alone, an awkward silence descended.
“You clean up real nice,” Clem said. Her voice sounded loud.
Dexter glanced up. “Thanks,” he replied.
A long moment later, he added, “You do, too.”
“Thanks.”
Nothing else to say, he paid particular attention to aligning the forks and knives vertically.
They both looked up when Randy burst into the room, carrying a plate of eggs in one hand and some sweet potato fries in the other. Ryan followed with the familiar maps.
“It’s a working dinner, as usual,” Ryan said as they were all seated.
The maps were laid out, the canyon marked, along with the count. Clem listened to the rumble of their voices, a wave of good feeling trickling through her. She rested her head on her hand as she listened.
“Go to bed, Clem.” Dexter’s voice caused her eyes to snap open.
“What?”
“Go to bed. We’re going to have a really early start in the morning.”
She stood up, looking at her plate. She’d hardly eaten anything, but right now the urge to sleep was stronger than her stomach’s growling. “I guess I’m a little more tired than I thought I’d be.” She picked up her plate, but Dexter took it from her.
“We’ll get the dishes. You just get some sleep.”
With a sleepy wave, she obeyed, climbing the stairs with heavy legs. It seemed to take all the effort in the world to undress, but Clem went through the motions, finally pulling on her flannel pajamas before flopping into the bed.
RANDY ELBOWED DEXTER. “You should go see if she makes it to her room.”
Dexter scowled at Randy.
Randy raised his eyebrow. “I’m serious. You should go see. It wouldn’t hurt if you went to tuck her in.”
Dexter ignored him and took her plate and his own to the kitchen. Since she’d hardly taken two bites, he covered it in plastic wrap and popped it in the refrigerator. She’d probably be hungry later on.
Twenty minutes later, the kitchen was clean, and they all quietly left through the back door.
“Dexter, I think you should start us a fire,” Randy said when they got back to the bunkhouse. “And Ryan, I think you should find your guitar.”
“And what will you be doing?”
“Just drawing.” Randy grinned. He rifled through one of his bags and pulled out a sketchbook and some pencils.
So Dexter started a fire, Ryan played his guitar and Randy sketched the scene. A couple of hours later when the fire began to die down, Dexter scooted to the fireplace to put a new log on the embers.
“Hold that right there,” Randy commanded. His head tilted.
“What?”
“Hold it. That’s a terrific pose.”
“It’s not a pose.”
“The firelight is doing awesome things to your arm and face.”
“It’s also hot.” Dexter couldn’t be annoyed with Randy. He was used to it. Then he asked facetiously, “Do you want me to put my hat on, too?”
Randy nodded. “That’d be a great touch.”
Ryan leaned back, grabbed Dex’s hat and plopped it on his head.
Randy grinned. “It’s crooked.”
Ryan straightened it out, pushing it down on Dex’s forehead.
“No. I like it better up, so you can see his face.”
“Can I put my arm down now?” Dexter asked as Ryan shifted the hat again. His shoulder was starting to ache as he kept the log extended.
“Just a minute,” Randy said, his eyes moving from Dexter’s form to his pad. “It’s all in the name of art.”
“I’m going to drop this log in the fire,” Dexter threatened. “Any second now.”
“One more minute.”
“I don’t have another minute in me.” His arm was starting to tremble and his legs were about to give out.
“What are you guys doing?” a soft voice asked behind him.
As he’d predicted, Dexter’s legs gave out. He dropped the log and ended up on the ground.
CLEM STOOD UNCERTAINLY at the door, a coat over her pajamas, her feet stuck into ankle-high sheepskin slippers, holding the plate of dinner she’d warmed in the microwave and a glass of milk. She’d woken up starving and had gone to fix herself a sandwich only to find her plate. Then she’d sat at the dining room table to eat and heard the music from the bunkhouse.
Two bites later, she could stand it no longer. She pulled on her coat and headed for the bunkhouse.
The door was closed, but she could see the fire going and she heard the laughter as the men talked. She almost turned around, but then decided she’d much rather be inside with them than eating by herself in that big, empty house.
“I guess you can say you’ve actually managed to knock Dexter Scott on his butt,” Randy chortled.
Dexter, his face beet red, scrambled to his feet, jamming the hat down further on his head, and sat on a stool next to the fire. He wouldn’t look at her, overly absorbed in adjusting the logs on the fire.
“Come on in,” Ryan invited. He placed a small table in front of a bunk and patted the bed. “Sit down and enjoy your meal.”
“I’m not intruding?” she asked as she did as he’d indicated.
“Not at all. We’re just talking and singing.”
“Don’t stop on my account,” Clem said, and sat there appreciating the peace that seemed to flourish in their presence. She took a bite of steak. Ryan struck a few chords and Randy flipped to another sheet and started to draw.
She chewed in silence, watching Dexter watch the fire.
“It’s good steak,” she commented. “I like the seasonings you used.”
“Thanks,” Randy said, still sketching. He had a pencil in his mouth, and he was squinting at the paper.
Except for the plucking of the guitar, no one said anything.
Clem finished her plate and sat further back on the bunk so she could prop her back against the wall. A yawn overtook her. She should go back. She should just get up and go back, but the music was lovely and the bunkhouse warm.
Even the lumpy cot felt like heaven.
“Hey, Clem!”
Her eyes opened up and she yawned again. She looked in the direction of the voice.
Randy was standing over her. “Why don’t you lie down? Put your head that way.” He moved the pillow from the head of the bed to the foot. He plumped it up.
It was too inviting to refuse. Her head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. She sighed with contentment. Able to keep only one eye open, she looked at Randy, who had changed angles and was obviously drawing her.
“What’cha doin’?” she mumbled.
“You’re a great model. I don’t think you’re going to move from that pose,” Randy said.
“I’m suppos’ to just stay?”
“Yep.”
“Oh.” She yawned again and found her eye closing.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER Randy was done.
“Now what are you going to do with her?” Dexter whispered. “She’s on my bed.”
Randy grinned at him. “She’s a great subject, don’t you think?” He showed Dexter the page containing several sketches of Clem.
Dexter studied them, then looked at the bottom where Randy had signed and titled the set. Sleeping Beauty.
Dexter had always known that his friend was talented, but he was amazed that Randy had managed to capture Clementine’s soft vulnerability.
“For you,” Randy said, his voice gruff as he tore the page out of the sketchbook.
Dexter accepted the drawing, his throat working as he held back his emotions.
Randy hit him in the arm. “I know, man, I know.”
All three men looked down at Clementine.
“So do we wake her up?” Dexter asked Ryan.
Ryan just smiled and plucked at a few more notes. “If I was you and I’m not, but if I was, I’d just take her up to her room.”
Dexter looked at them, appalled. “As in carry her?”
“She could hardly weigh more than a smidgen, wouldn’t you say, Ryan?”
Ryan shrugged. “Maybe a smidgen and a half.”
Randy leaned over her. “If you don’t want to carry her, Scott, I’m up to the task.”
Dexter elbowed Randy out of the way.
“You’re not touching her.” He kneeled beside her and shook her shoulder. “Clem?”
“She’s out.”
“You could always just sleep on the top bunk,” Randy said. “Then she could wake up here. Though, I t
hink she’d be much more comfortable in her own bed. Don’t you think so, Ryan?”
Dexter scowled at them as he slid his arms under her legs and her back and hefted her up.
She weighed more than a smidgen, but not much more than a sack of grain. Randy opened the door for him and whispered in his ear, “We’ve got you on the clock, man.”
If Dexter could have, he would have given him an obscene gesture.
He walked as quickly as he could, into the house, up the stairs and then stopped in the dark hall. He’d never been to the second story. He peeked into one bedroom after another. When he saw one with a rumpled bed, he took her in and gently laid her down. He puffed from the exertion and looked around. She had a wonderful view of the courtyard.
He studied the pictures on her dresser. There was a picture of her and Archie, when Archie was just a colt. Clem’s face was all smiles. She loved that horse, and Dexter admired her for the depth of that love. Then he went back to the bed. She was dead asleep, but hardly looked comfortable with her coat bunched up under her.
He pulled off her slippers and then eased off her jacket, rolling her one way first and the other way. She didn’t wake. Her pajama top lifted up, exposing the smooth curve of her stomach, the dimple of her navel. He was mesmerized by that navel. He wanted to run his finger around it, but contented himself with pulling down her pajama top.
Funny, she worked so hard, so effortlessly yet he still often thought of her as frail. He wondered why. Looking at her now, Dex saw that work had taken its toll on her. Clem’s face was thin, accentuated by dark circles under her eyes that wouldn’t be erased by one night’s sleep. “Under the covers you go, Sleeping Beauty,” he whispered as he moved her legs.
She purred with contentment as he pulled the covers over her shoulders.
It wasn’t proper to tuck someone in without a kiss, right? He pushed her hair out of her eyes. He was aiming for her forehead, but somehow he caught her on the mouth. Just a touch of his lips to hers. That’s all. Nothing more to it.
But as he straightened, he saw her eyes were open.
“Hi,” she breathed, blinking.