Follow Me Home

by Leona Karr

  As if he read her mind, he said, “The visibility was worse than I expected. Luckily I knew this ranch house was somewhere close. And here I am.” He quickly jerked off a glove and held out his hand. “Larry Crowder. I hope you don’t mind me spending a night under your roof.”

  Before she could answer, she heard footsteps behind her and turned as Hal reached them. His blue eyes widened in astonishment as his gaze fell on the tumbled skis, poles and the young man.

  “I heard him pounding on the door,” Jill explained quickly.

  Larry stepped forward. “It’s the storm, sir. Your wife let me in.”

  “She’s not my wife,” Hal corrected smoothly, as if that was the first thing to get straight. “What in the world are you doing out in this storm?”

  The skier explained the reason he’d shown up at the rancher’s door. “I went farther than I had planned and couldn’t get back. Had to spend the night on Silver Mountain.”

  The guy must really be a skiing addict, Jill thought. And pretty stupid to ignore the weather forecasts. Hal must have felt the same way, for he echoed, “Silver Mountain? That could be suicide in this storm.”

  “I know that now. Bad timing on my part, for sure. But if I can spend the night, I’m sure I’ll be able to ski out of here tomorrow.”

  “Not likely,” Hal said flatly. “Day after tomorrow, maybe. At least that’s what the forecasters are saying.”

  “Oh, no,” Jill said anxiously. “Are they really predicting the storm will last that long?”

  “Well, they’re wrong often enough,” the skier offered helpfully.

  Hal silently hoped to heaven this was one of the those times. He couldn’t imagine having his life totally disrupted for God knew how long with all these extra people. “Well, shed those wet things and come on into the den. I was just having a drink with a neighbor of mine, and I imagine you could use a warmer-upper.”

  “Yes, thank you, sir.”

  Hal hesitated a moment. “What about you, Jill?” The use of her first name threw her for a minute. “Would you care to join us in the den? All male company, I’m afraid.”

  From his tone, she didn’t know if he was warning or challenging her, but in either case, she wasn’t about to let him dictate what she should or should not do. The young mother was sleeping, and there wasn’t anything she could do upstairs at the moment.

  “That sounds inviting.” She was perfectly capable of handling herself with the opposite sex. Even though he might prefer her to fade into the background, she was stubborn enough to say, “I believe I’ll join you for a few minutes.”

  She was convinced a brief smile tugged at his lips, but it was so fleeting that a second later she wasn’t sure. He led the way to an open door just beyond the foot of the stairs. The den was a man’s room, all right, Jill saw with one quick glance. Mounted stuffed animal trophies and photographs of fishing and hunting parties decorated the log walls. Hunting guns filled two gun cases, and she was surprised to see a high glassed-in bookcase behind a large desk that dominated one side of the room. There ought to be something on those shelves that would provide Gary and Sue with a little reading material, she thought.

  Zack sat on a couch facing the fire with a can of beer in his hand. He didn’t get up, but a sandy-haired man sitting beside him quickly rose to his feet as Hal made the introductions.

  “My neighbor, Scotty McClure. He owns the fishing lodge and cabins on the next property and is known to all the anglers in these parts as ‘You-Should-Have-Seen-The-One-That-Got-Away’ McClure.”

  The Scotsman laughed good-naturedly but Jill thought the fisherman’s smile was a little forced. Apparently Scotty took his fishing exploits seriously. “And this is Jill Gaylor who spoke with you earlier.”

  “Pleased to meet you in person,” he said as he shook her hand. “Was worth battling the blizzard to drive over here and join the party. Power lines at my place went down. Good thing I got myself over here or I’d be freezing my butt off.”

  He was somewhere in his middle thirties, she guessed. The outdoor type, rather large-boned but carrying his weight well. “You gave me a start when you answered the phone,” he admitted. “Couldn’t believe Hal had a woman under his roof. Might have known it would take a Colorado blizzard to get a pretty lass inside his doors. Not that any gal would put up with his cantankerous disposition for long.”

  Hal took the ribbing in good sport, as if he was used to his neighbor’s teasing. Jill sensed an affectionate bond between them. Apparently Hal related well to kids like Randy and fishing buddies like Scotty. Had he ever allowed a woman in his life? she wondered. She suspected that his deep resonant voice and easy confident manner would probably have a devastating effect upon any woman he decided was worthy of his attention.

  Forcing her attention away from her host, she realized with a start that Zack had risen to his feet and was glaring at the skier as if the young man’s blond ponytail and earring made him some kind of alien. Even before the men spoke two words to each other, Jill could feel a spark of animosity between them. Great, she thought, that’s all she needed, snowbound with two aggressive males acting like charging bulls.

  Jill eased down into a comfortable chair, and when Hal asked what she’d like to drink, she glanced at the small, built-in bar. “Scotch and water would be nice.” She didn’t know whether he was surprised by her choice—a man’s drink, after all. And not very Californian. Had he expected her to request a banana daiquiri? She felt him studying her as he prepared her drink and poured himself a shot of whiskey. A betraying warmth eased into her cheeks and she was annoyed at herself for allowing his attention to make her blush.

  As he handed her the glass, his eyes met hers with the hint of a teasing smile. “I hope it’s strong enough.”

  Keeping her eyes locked with his, she raised the drink, and took a sip. She pretended to weigh the taste for a second, then smiled. “Perfect.”

  A resonant chuckle came from deep in his chest as he turned away. When he took a seat across the room from her, she was strangely disappointed. In spite of herself, she was intrigued by this man and admitted that she’d like to know him better, much better.

  None of the men made an effort to include her in the conversation, and the rise and fall of male voices was rather pleasant and a change from her solitary widowhood. She sipped her drink and relaxed.

  A few minutes later, she was startled out of a pleasant reverie when Kirby stuck his head in the door. “Come and get it. Grub’s on.”

  Jill stood up, set down her empty glass on the bar and turned to Hal. “I’ll take a tray upstairs and eat with Sue and Gary.”

  “No, not tonight. The fellows would never forgive me if I let you slip off by yourself,” Hal said, his persuasive smile doing all sorts of things to his dark blue eyes. “Please eat with the rest of us.”

  “All right,” she agreed, not wanting to make an issue of it. In a way, she was pleased that he was insisting on her company.

  She expected that they would eat in the kitchen, but Hal led the way to a spacious dining room adjoining the large front room. Jill was astounded to see that a long table had been spread with a lovely white cloth and matching dishes and glassware. An overhead chandelier made of tiny stained-glass pieces sent colored light twinkling on the elegant table below.

  Her astonishment must have registered on her face because there was a satisfied gleam in her host’s eye. “When my mother and father were alive, they always set a fine table, and we never had evening meals in the kitchen.”

  With surprising deftness, he seated Jill at the head of the table, himself at the foot, and the other men, including the cook, took their places at the long table.

  Even though a fire had been built in the fireplace, there were signs that the dining room was usually shut off from the rest of the house. Jill could tell that the dinner preparations had been hasty, and she wondered why the rancher had bothered with the extra effort.

  “Chow time,” Zack said when every
one was seated. He flushed at Hal’s scowl. The cowboy looked self-conscious as he handled the fragile serving dishes circling the table. Next to him, the skier paid little attention to anyone else as he loaded his plate and made no pretense about hiding a ravenous appetite.

  Kirby might not look like a cook, she decided, but if the perfectly cooked trout, buttered potatoes, lightly seasoned, and a green bean casserole were an example of his culinary skills, he certainly knew how to prepare a delicious meal. When she complimented him, the Adam’s apple in his long neck bobbed up and down, and the smile he gave her made his lean face seem almost boyish.

  Scotty, sitting at her right, proudly informed her that he had supplied the rainbow trout. With only a smile as encouragement, he launched into fishing stories that had the other men groaning and shaking their heads in skeptical disbelief.

  Jill felt Hal’s eyes on her during the meal and wondered what he was thinking. Several times she was startled when a deep laugh came from his chest. Tiny smile lines appeared around his eyes, and his mouth was suddenly relaxed and terribly appealing. When he radiated warmth and acceptance, and when his smile included her, she was drawn to him in a way she would never have thought possible. In those moments, she realized she was seeing the man that her son held in such affection.

  Their eyes caught once for only a brief moment, but with startling impact. Quickly she lowered her gaze. It’s the storm, she told herself. Nothing more. The disturbing effect he was having on her was the result of frayed nerves and a bone-deep weariness. She didn’t linger after she had finished her apple cobbler, but quickly excused herself from the table.

  “Just ask if you need anything,” Hal said, rising to his feet at her departure.

  “I will, thank you.”

  None of the other men rose from their chairs, and a fresh wave of male conversation followed her out the door. All her things, backpack and wraps, had disappeared from the kitchen and she assumed someone had taken them up to her room.

  She ran upstairs and went immediately to check on the Millers, glad to see that Kirby had brought up trays with the same delicious meal he’d prepared for everyone else.

  “Well, I think I’ll turn in,” she said a few minutes later, when there seemed to be nothing she could do for the expectant mother. Physically and emotionally drained by the events of the day, she was ready to find a bed and climb into it. “You be sure to call me if you need me. Have a good night.”

  Outside, old man winter was still raging, but inside the stone house there was reassuring warmth and comfort. She crossed the hall to the bedroom Hal had said would be hers and was delighted with what she saw. The cozy room was just what she would have imagined for a homey ranch house. Wallpaper in a floral print and blue drapes harmonized with simple maple furniture and a large brass bed covered with a thick multicolored quilt.

  She was glad to see her backpack lying on the bed and her wraps hung in the closet. As she started to unzip the backpack, she noticed something lying on the floor beside the bed. Reaching down and picking it up, she turned it over in her hand with disbelief.

  A bookmark.

  The same one that she was using to mark her place in the paperback she’d brought with her. She was certain that she’d packed the book at the bottom of her backpack. How had the bookmark gotten on the floor unless…unless someone had been looking through her things.

  A cold chill ran up her back.

  He’d watched her walk out of the dining room and smiled to himself. Things were going even better than he had imagined He loved being close to her, breathing the same air and enjoying the tantalizing way she moved. He loved touching her things. He couldn’t believe that she could look straight into his face without knowing how much he desired her. Her indifference mocked him. Belittled the love he felt for her. How could she be so blind to the torment that had plagued his nights and days? But the time would come when she would know. And soon.

  Chapter Three

  Jill sat on the edge of the bed and fought back a swell of uneasiness mingled with rage. She’d always valued her privacy. Just the idea of someone stealthily going through her possessions infuriated her. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions, but even as she tried to find another reason for the bookmark being on the floor, she failed to come up with any other explanation than the disturbing and obvious one—that someone had been going through her things. But why, for heaven’s sake? Were they after money? If so, they’d overlooked the wallet she had placed in a small zippered pocket But maybe there hadn’t been time for a thorough search. Nothing seemed to be missing, but she couldn’t be sure. She’d only brought some clothes and the bare essentials. And she’d packed in such a hurry that she wasn’t quite certain what she’d stuffed into the bag. If the bookmark hadn’t been on the floor, she wouldn’t even have been aware that someone had gone through her belongings.

  All of the men, including Hal, had easy access to her bedroom as they came and went up and down the stairs. With the arrival of the skier and the Scotsman, and the storm deepening with every hour, sleeping arrangements had been changed to give the two unexpected guests the remaining bedrooms, while Kirby and Zack were going to bed down on couches in the den. Any one of them, including Gary Miller, could have spent a few minutes in her room at any time during the day or evening, as they’d all left the gathering periodically—to use the restroom she’d assumed.

  Feeling uneasy, she made certain her door was locked. Then she wearily climbed into the wide brass bed and burrowed down into the warmth of blankets and thick quilt. Although exhausted from the physical and emotional demands of the day, she couldn’t relax. A mounting wind wailed under the eaves of the house, and the peppering of iced snow against the windows brought back the terrifying experience of struggling through the blinding snow. She relived the horrifying moments of opening the car door and seeing the dead man covered in his own blood. Hal had said he didn’t recall a car of the kind she’d described, but there had been a flicker in his eyes that made her wonder. Had he called the sheriff? She’d forgotten to ask.

  Jill’s wandering thoughts settled on her unwilling host. She felt a flicker of sympathy for him. Obviously, the storm had completely disrupted his life, and having a houseful of uninvited guests would stretch anyone’s patience and hospitality.

  All through dinner she’d felt his eyes flickering over her. What was going through his mind? Perhaps he was remembering other gatherings in the family dining room. Was he seeing his mother seated at the end of the table, enjoying her pretty floral dishes, smiling and making conversation with her guests? She wondered what kind of son Hal Haverly had been to his mother, and, more importantly, what kind of mother had she been to him. Then she chided herself for letting Hal Haverly dominate her thoughts.

  It had been a long time since a man had captured her attention on any level. She wondered if she was immune for life to ever falling in love again. At heart, she was a sharing person, finding joy in giving and receiving, and at times she was damn lonely. Even though she was blessed by having Randy to love and care for, she knew that he had a life of his own to live. She’d met plenty of men in the workplace, enjoyed male company on occasion and even dated a few special guys for extended periods. But none of them had tapped that deep reservoir of emotion that she’d once known. Had she deliberately erected barriers around herself? Was she afraid of letting herself fall in love again?

  She flounced over in bed and impatiently fluffed the soft feather pillow. Why on earth was she asking herself such questions at this particular moment? She knew the answer and was disgusted with herself. For some stupid reason, the rancher had gotten under her skin. She wondered what it would be like to receive the full force of his smile. Tonight at dinner, had there been a kind of magnetic pull as their eyes caught, or had it been her imagination? Maybe he had just been acting as a hospitable host, laughing and smiling, and she was guilty of fantasizing.

  Well, no matter, she told herself, turning over on her side. She deliberately swi
tched her thoughts away from Hal Haverly and settled them on the frightened young girl across the hall. Just having another woman around had eased Sue’s anxiety and lessened the worried frown on her husband’s face. Yes, she’d made the right decision in coming, Jill thought with satisfaction. The young couple needed support and reassurance. As soon as the roads cleared tomorrow, they’d be on their way again with a tale to tell about being snowed in at a Colorado ranch. And as soon as they leave, I’ll get back to Randy and take him home, she thought as she curled up with her cheek against the soft pillow. Her son would be proud of his mom. This time, when the other rescue volunteers returned, she’d have her own story to tell. Her whirling thoughts settled down and she slipped away into a refreshing sleep.

  THE NEXT MORNING she awoke when a fierce assault of wind and snow seemed to rock the house to its very foundation. For a moment, on the edge of sleep, disoriented by the strange ceiling above her head and the unfamiliar bed, her thoughts were muddled. Then she remembered. And as she lay there, listening, her chest tightened. The storm was still raging. In fact, it sounded worse than when she’d gone to bed. She had convinced herself that the brunt of the storm would pass over during the night, but all hope for the Millers to be on their way quickly faded.

  The bedroom’s chilly air prickled her skin as she threw back the covers. Thankful for her warm flannel pajamas and matching robe, she grabbed a change of clothes and a few toiletries. Cautiously opening the door, she peered out and was relieved that no men were in sight. The Millers’ door was still closed, but the other two doors at each end of the hall were open and the rooms appeared to be empty. Hal and the other two men must already be downstairs. She quickly made her way to the bathroom just down the hall.

  Earlier, Jill had decided that the master bedroom must have a bathroom of its own, because no masculine personal items were evident in this bathroom. Several towels and a couple of bars of soap had been set out for use by the stranded guests but, otherwise, the bathroom was as impersonal as a hotel’s. No sign that it was in daily use. Bathroom fixtures in a delicate blue matched modern ceramic tile and a bright linoleum in a morning-glory pattern.