Self-preservation required that he stop noticing all the sweet, womanly things about her. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He loved the soft curve of her ear that was exposed when she pulled back her hair, the incredible green of her eyes, the way she drew in one brow when she was confused or disbelieving.
The phone on his belt clip vibrated, reminding him that he still hadn’t answered last night’s phone message from Amber. She was the woman he should be thinking about right now. So why wasn’t he?
He knew he owed her, at the least, a phone call. But how was he supposed to pursue a relationship with one woman, when he was all the time thinking about another?
He felt the small, squishy sac of the cow’s uterus and something harder inside, about the size of a baseball. “She’s pregnant.”
“Great.” Corb released the animal with the other bred cows and Farley moved on to the next one.
If only women were as easy to understand as cows. He knew one thing for sure. His life would be a lot less complicated once Cassidy took that job and made a permanent move to Billings.
* * *
IT WAS A long week for Cassidy. Chickweed turned out to be lucky. His case of strangles was mild and within seven days both he and Lucy seemed as good as new. Finnegan was different. His spirits dragged. His appetite was sporadic. Though terribly worried about her mustang, Cassidy was growing weary of her assignment, which kept her cooped up in the barn when she really wanted to be outside enjoying the warm May weather.
During her long nightly vigils—she refused to sleep in the house until she knew all the horses were out of danger—she’d finished the book Tabitha had recommended and another besides.
While the stories were pleasant diversions, she still felt increasingly restless. Plus she was getting really sick of the smell of disinfectant.
She could have spent more time in the house, rather than the barn, but she was also avoiding her mother who, when she wasn’t complaining about Winnie keeping Brock’s son a secret, was stepping up her campaign to get Cassidy to join the Coffee Creek Heritage Site Committee.
“We could schedule our meetings to coincide with your visits home,” she’d offered last night during dinner.
“I don’t think so, Mom.”
“But why? Don’t you care about this community? You could make a real difference here.”
Her mother had gone on, talking about the importance of remembering the past and keeping alive the cowboy tradition. It was as if she was purposefully ignoring the fact that Cassidy planned to work as an accountant and live in Billings.
Though even that plan was beginning to look doubtful.
She still hadn’t been called for a second interview and the waiting was driving her mad. Her marks had been top of the class, even better than Josh’s. She’d thought she’d done well at the first interview.
So why wasn’t she getting the second interview invitation that Josh and several other classmates had received?
Cassidy stopped to kick a wooden fence post. Just because she felt like it.
“Did it help?”
Heck and darn, Farley had seen her. He must be here doing more preg testing today. She hadn’t seen his vet truck, but he’d probably parked it by the cattle barn again.
“Not really,” she admitted.
“What’s the problem?”
Even in an OB uniform covered with cow manure, Farley still looked ridiculously handsome. Something about those regal Native American cheekbones and his jet-black hair, which always fell perfectly in place and didn’t even seem to show the indent from his hat when he removed it from his head.
Speaking of hair, hers was a mess. Something her mother had pointed out yesterday and again today.
“Just because you’re living on a ranch doesn’t mean you should get sloppy with your appearance, Cassidy.”
“Spring fever,” she said, after taking a moment to consider Farley’s question. “I think Lucy and Chickweed have it, too. They’re itching to get some exercise but I’m afraid to let them out with the other horses.”
“Can’t do that until we know they’re not contagious,” he agreed. “But they looked pretty spirited to me the last time I examined them. We could take them out for a ride. Clear their cobwebs—and our own, besides.”
She glanced at him, intrigued by what she thought he’d just suggested. “We could take them? You have time for a trail ride?”
Even more surprising was the idea that he would want to go for a ride with her along for company.
He smiled. “I think I deserve a reward after all the cows I’ve felt up the past few weeks.”
* * *
CASSIDY DIDN’T KNOW who was happier to finally be free—her or Lucy. Farley on Chickweed was right behind them as they left the barn behind, then the yard, and then the pasture. It felt great to be out on the open range, knowing they could ride for hours and not run into another human being.
After ten minutes of pure exuberance, Cassidy brought Lucy down a couple of notches. “Easy, girl. I know you’re happy to be out of that barn, but I don’t want you to get sick again.”
She turned to look at Farley, who was also transitioning Chickweed into a slower pace.
Cassidy couldn’t help noticing...he’d cleaned up crazy good.
Gone were the gooey overalls and the latex gloves. Now Farley was in faded jeans and a mossy-green shirt and a hat about as dark as his hair.
He looked sexy, handsome and just a little dangerous.
Just the way he’d looked to her four years ago at that dance. Back then the feelings had been more than she could handle. Now she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
Not that she saw it happening.
But what was the harm in a little daydreaming?
He urged Chickweed closer. “You and Lucy were made for one another.”
“I feel that way, too. But she’s my mother’s horse.”
“Yeah.” He eyed the palomino thoughtfully. “But she’s so agile. She’d make a lovely barrel racer.”
“I know. I think the very same thing.”
“Didn’t you compete in high school?”
“Yes, with Finnegan. Much as I love my boy, though, I think Lucy has it all over him in the raw talent category. Not that it matters. I really can’t imagine Mom taking up barrel racing any time soon.”
“Your mother is in great shape for her age. But barrel racing? I don’t think so.”
“What about you? Do you still steer wrestle?”
“Every now and then,” he admitted. “To let off a little steam.”
“I remember watching you and my brothers practice. It used to scare me. I was so sure one of you was going to get hurt.”
“Trust me, the hits were a lot easier to take when we were younger. I don’t know how B.J. can keep up the pace he does. He called me the other day. Tried to talk me into registering in Central Point at the end of the month.”
“The Wild Rogue Rodeo? Are you going to do it?”
“I might. What about you?”
For a moment she was tempted. Then she shrugged. “It’s difficult for me to think about the future right now. Each day that passes without a call for that second interview just makes me realize how much I was counting on landing that job.”
“You didn’t look too worried a minute ago.”
She hesitated. Then laughed. “That’s true. Thanks for suggesting we do this. Isn’t it a beautiful day? I mean, look at that view of Square Butte.” She waved her hand at the mountain rising from the hills to their left. “Doesn’t it just take your breath away?”
“I know what you mean.” His voice sounded thoughtful, and she turned to look at him, trying to figure out his mood. He was looking at her, though, not the mountain.
Was he changing his mind about her?
“Forgiven me yet?” she dared to ask.
“Thinking about it.”
“Yeah? What else are you thinking about? You looked so serious ther
e for a minute.”
“I was just wondering what made you choose accounting as your field of study?”
She had a feeling he’d pulled that question out of his hat, but she answered anyway. “Math was my best subject. The guidance counselor at school suggested I study business and the program at the U of M looked interesting.”
“And did you enjoy it?”
She shrugged. The classes on accounting, statistics, management and finance had come easily to her. “I was good at it.”
“Math and science were my best subjects, too. Did you ever consider something else like, say, vet school?”
“Mom mentioned the idea,” she admitted. “But as you’ve already seen, I’m too squeamish.”
“Yet, you have a way with animals. Your dog. Your horses.”
“Yes. But I love them so much I can’t stand to see them suffer.” A vet had to have the ability to be rational and objective. She could never stand back dispassionately when an animal was hurting. “I even have a hard time helping with branding. I know it’s necessary, that the calves don’t hurt for long, but it always breaks my heart, all the same.”
“And here I thought you were so tough.”
“Did you really?”
“I remember you jumping off the bluffs on the far side of Cold Coffee Lake. That’s a thirty-foot drop.”
“Brock dared me.”
“You were only ten years old at the time.” He shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it.
“And scared to death,” she confessed. “But it was fun after the first time.” When it came to her own safety, she could be daring enough. It was the suffering of others—particularly helpless animals—that got to her the most.
They talked some more.
Farley told her about going to university, then vet school. He talked about his parents and how they’d decided to move to Arizona when he turned thirty.
“One thing I’ll always be grateful for. My dad sat me down for a talk when I finished high school. He told me that while my grandfather and father had both been vets, I shouldn’t feel pressured to follow in their footsteps. He told me I could do whatever I wanted with my life, and even though I had no doubt about choosing the veterinary field, I was always grateful to him for making sure I knew I had a choice.”
“Wow,” Cassidy said. “I couldn’t imagine my mother having a talk like that with any of us kids.”
“She wants you all to work at Coffee Creek.”
“You noticed that, too, huh?”
He laughed, and after a second, so did she.
At one point Cassidy noticed a movement in some brush about twenty yards in the distance. The long grass swished and she caught a glimpse of gray. “Was that a coyote?”
“Yup. The females are nursing the young in their dens this time of year. Which means the males have been booted out and are feeling a little nastier than usual. There seem to be more around than usual. I was at Straws Monahan’s the other day and he said they lost a couple barn cats last week. They suspected a coyote was involved.”
“Oh, those poor kitties. I heard the coyotes howling last night. I was safe in the barn, yet even so it was kind of spooky.”
“They won’t bother us on the horses,” Farley assured her.
It was Farley who first noticed the time. “We’d better head back. I should check in with my office. Liz will be having a fit.”
“She likes to keep a tight rein on you,” Cassidy said, remembering how protective the other woman had been on the phone, how quick to tell her that Farley was dating Amber Ellis.
“Too tight at times. But she’s so darn good at what she does I put up with it.” He glanced around the landscape. “It would be good to give the horses a drink. Is that a creek bed over there?”
Cassidy shielded her eyes and looked where he pointed, to a grassy bank and a large grove of shrubbery with some stunted pine trees, as well. They’d gained quite a lot of elevation and trees never grew as tall at this altitude.
“You’re right. I think we’ve actually run up to the boundary of the Turner ranch. That’s Silver Creek over there.”
“Perfect.” Farley signaled Chickweed to move toward the creek and Cassidy followed on Lucy. They dismounted by a clearing in the trees and let the horses free to drink their fill.
Cassidy scanned her surroundings, realizing that they’d ended up at the site of an old cattle shelter that had been used by the Turner family in the years when their operation had been as large as the Lamberts’.
Sure enough, on the other side of the creek, partially hidden by the bushy ponderosa pine, were the charred remains of an old barn.
Farley noticed it at the same time as she did. He whistled.
“This is the place where that vagrant died, isn’t it?”
Cassidy nodded. B.J. and one of his buddies, Hunter Moody, had been out partying here with some friends when a storm blew in. Lightning had set the place on fire, and while all of B.J.’s friends had escaped without harm, unknown to them a young vagrant—passed out in the loft above their heads—had perished. The body had never been identified and everyone assumed the man was a vagrant from another state.
“I was only nine at the time, but I’ll never forget Sheriff Smith coming to our door and taking B.J. and my dad in for questioning. I thought they’d been arrested and were going to jail and I’d never see them again.”
“I was worried, too. Not that I believed B.J. had done anything wrong, but my parents weren’t keen on letting me hang out with your brothers for a while. A lot of people in the community believed B.J. and Hunter set that fire on purpose.”
“Small towns and rumors.” Cassidy shrugged them off. She knew her brother would never do anything like that. Still, she had a morbid impulse to check out the old barn. She decided to toss a challenge to Farley. “Want to take a look?”
He hesitated. “We’d have to cross the creek.”
At the narrowest point, the creek was still a good eight feet across. And about two feet deep.
“We could do it on horseback,” she replied.
“That we could.”
They swung back up into their saddles, and Lucy and Chickweed gamely waded to the other side. As Cassidy dismounted, she realized this was the first time she’d ever set foot on Silver Creek Ranch property. Thinking back to her brief encounter with Maddie Turner earlier that day, she didn’t think her aunt would mind.
“I’m amazed this place is still standing.” Farley circled the charred structure, which was leaning decidedly to the east.
“Rain saved it from burning completely to the ground,” Cassidy remembered.
“That’s right. They said the vagrant died of smoke inhalation.”
“I wonder if we’ll ever know who he was.”
“He must not have had any family, or someone would have tracked him down by now. I wouldn’t suggest you go in there, Cass. It doesn’t look safe.”
“I agree.” Cassidy took a last glance at the decrepit old barn, then whistled for Lucy.
Instead she found Farley. He’d moved closer to her and was looking at her in a way that reminded her of that night four years ago.
She hitched her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans, trying to pretend her heart hadn’t suddenly started to pound.
He moved a little closer, this time near enough to reach out and touch the side of her face.
How could a finger so hard with calluses feel so tender?
“At the Harvest Dance...was that some game you were playing?”
“Why are you bringing that up again? I said I was sorry.”
“That’s fine. I’m still wondering why you did it. That guy. Did you ever see him again?”
“No. It wasn’t about him. I just felt...over my head. That’s all.”
Understanding shone in his eyes then. “You were scared.”
She nodded.
“There are nine years between us. It’s a big gap.”
“Back then it was.” She cou
ld hardly believe she’d said that. As if to imply it wasn’t a big gap now. That she and Farley...
“Well, it was probably just as well. If you hadn’t pulled that stunt, I would have ended up kissing you good-night. And God only knows what would have happened next.”
She swallowed. He hadn’t kissed her then. But she was pretty sure he was going to kiss her now. And she wanted him to.
In fact she wanted him so badly right now it seemed as if nothing else really signified. She could remember how it had felt to be in his arms, and she wanted that sensation again. And more.
She wanted him to kiss her the way a real man would kiss a woman. As if he meant it. As if he were claiming her for all time.
Chapter Eight
But Farley didn’t move any closer. And he made no move to kiss her, either.
Instead he handed Cassidy the reins to Lucy, which he’d been holding with his other hand.
She stared at him for a moment, confused. What had this been about? Was he toying with her? Or had he just told her that the age gap between them had been too big before and still was today?
“Is this about getting even with me?” she finally asked.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you were going to kiss me. Then you backed off. Like you’re trying to teach me a lesson or something.”
He looked exasperated. “You’re the one who just told me how desperately you want to work in Billings. Explain to me why it would make any sense at all for me to kiss you.”
“Then why did you look like you wanted to?”
“Lord, woman, you’re going to drive me crazy. For the record, I’m not the kind of guy who plays games when it comes to love. Teaching you some kind of ‘lesson’ was the last thing on my mind.”
“Well, then.” She put her hands on her hips, not ready to let this go. “What was on your mind, then?”
“Four years ago it seemed like you’d changed into a different sort of person. I guess today I was thinking you hadn’t changed as much as I’d thought you had.”
“And is that a good thing?”
“Damn it, Cassidy, I don’t want to discuss this anymore. You’ve got your life plan and I’ve got mine. Let’s leave it at that. And now can we please make tracks?”
Her Cowboy Dilemma Page 9